Long And Winding Road
by Diva In The House
Summary: House/OMC, OMC/OMC.  House and Julian meet at U of M.  After House is expelled, Julian moves on.  When they meet again at a medical conference, sparks fly, but it takes more than that to bring them together again.  AU version of S6 from the OC's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, another new story, but fear not, I have not abandoned any of my works in progress. I'm just taking a little hiatus. Hopefully posting some new stuff will help me kick the muse's butt in gear to get new material out all around. In the meantime, enjoy the new one.**

# # #

_September 1983, Ann Arbor, Michigan_

"Julian!" The female voice rings out across the student union, and I lift my head in response. My friend Kay is making her way through the crowded space, dragging a man with her.

I groan internally. Ever since I came out to her back in the spring, Kay has made it her mission to fix me up with every queer within a hundred miles. It's been hit or miss, more miss than hit, but that doesn't stop her from trying. I figure it's her way of accepting me. Her reaction could be worse, I suppose.

She finally makes it to my table and stands in front of me, practically quivering with excitement, clutching the guy's arm as if she were holding on for dear life. "Julian, this is Greg. He just transferred here from Johns Hopkins."

I nod absentmindedly. "I'd love to chat, but…" I gesture expansively at the open textbook and papers scattered everywhere.

Kay huffs irritably. "The semester just started. You can't possibly be that busy already."

"I am." I snap, glancing at the awkward, gangly man who still stands next to her. I find myself softening just a little. He's cute despite being nothing but arms and legs, light brown hair sticking out in waves all over his head.

He manages to pull away from Kay's death-like grip to lean over the table, his serious eyes studying my open book. "Endocrinology?"

"Yes." I answer. "And I have a quiz tomorrow, so if you don't mind…"

Kay lets out a sigh. "Fine, but only if you promise to come to my party Friday night."

"Sure, whatever." I wave a hand in their general direction and return to my work. Kay's party will be so crowded that she won't even notice if I don't show. And I have no intention of showing.

I vaguely overhear conversation between Kay and Greg, the other man muttering something about having to get to class. He soon leaves, and Kay plops herself in a chair across from me.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask her irritably.

"In a few minutes." She replies airily. After a brief pause, she leans forward. "So, what do you think of Greg?"

"Kay." I sigh patiently. "Would you please stop trying to fix me up? I'm really too busy for that sort of thing."

"I didn't bring him over for _you_." Kay laughs. "He's in my infectious diseases class. Isn't he just adorable?"

Adorable? I'm not sure that's the word I would use to describe Greg. "I don't know. He doesn't really seem like your type."

Kay waves a hand around dismissively. "He only looks like a total nerd."

"I didn't say that." I tell her. "You just tend to prefer more, you know, athletic types."

"Well, he does play lacrosse, whatever that is." Kay shrugs. "I guess that's athletic."

I shake my head, checking my watch and gathering up my things. "I've got to go."

"See you Friday?" Kay asks hopefully.

"Maybe." I answer. "If I'm not up to my eyeballs in class work."

"Julian." She all but scolds me. "You can't just hide out all weekend. Get out, live a little."

I shove everything into my backpack and close it up, heaving it over my shoulder. "I'll let you know."

I hear Kay sigh behind me as I leave the student union behind me and start toward my next class. It's a nearly perfect day, that odd time between summer and fall that comes all too rarely in Michigan, and I find myself slowing to a lingering stroll.

"Where are you headed?" An already familiar voice breaks into my reverie.

"Class." I answer, startled. "Renal systems."

Greg nods. "Same here."

We fall into step, crossing the campus together, and I sneak a look at his profile. I must admit, he is cute in that nerdy sort of way, and he moves gracefully despite his gangly limbs.

I still don't quite understand what Kay sees in him, but what do I know? There's no accounting for taste, I suppose.

We finally make it to the lecture hall, finding a pair of seats and sliding into them. I pull a tape recorder out of my backpack along with my textbook and notebook, preparing for the lecture.

Greg seems almost unconcerned, leaning back in the seat as best he can and stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. I can't help but smile a little at the red and white Nikes on his feet. They look brand new, and I wonder if he actually uses them for jogging or if he just thought they were cool.

"Nice shoes." I lean over and whisper to him.

"Kay told me about you." He frowns and whispers back, making a limp wrist gesture.

I huff irritably and settle in my seat. After a few moments, I lean over and whisper again. "Kay told me about you, too."

"Then quit flirting with me." He answers sharply. "It's not cool to flirt with your friend's boyfriend."

I sigh and flip open my notebook to the previous day's notes. So much for trying to make friends with this guy.

I spend the rest of the class concentrating on the lecture, making notes and underlining key phrases in my book. A heavy sigh from beside me makes me turn my head.

"This guy's an idiot." Greg grumbles. "Must have cut his degree off the back of a cereal box."

I can't help but snicker, even as I'm a little appalled by Greg's assessment.

A few minutes later, he leans over toward me. "I'll bet he's not even a real doctor. You know what they say, right?"

"What's that?" I ask quietly.

"Those that can, do. Those that can't, teach." He smirks slightly. "And those that can't teach, administrate. Explains a lot, don't you think?"

It does, I have to admit. I nod and smile slightly in response. Maybe there's more to Greg than I thought.

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Greg continuously challenges our professor with questions that I never would have thought of. It's obvious to me that the guy has a lot more going on upstairs than I thought, and I have to rethink my earlier assessment.

Finally the lecture ends, and I gather up my things to shove them in my backpack, turning off the tape recorder. Greg is unfolding himself from the chair that's far too small for his frame, rising to his full height and stretching his arms over his head. His t-shirt rises as well, exposing a little of his stomach.

I manage to look away, hurriedly cramming my tape recorder into the outside pocket of my backpack. If Greg is really Kay's boyfriend, I don't want to create any trouble by getting caught checking him out.

"You can look, but don't touch." Greg tells me mockingly, and I glance up to see a teasing glint in a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Yes, yes." I snap back. "You've made things perfectly clear."

He nods firmly, studying me. "See you around."

With that he's gone, disappearing into the crowd leaving the lecture hall. Suddenly I hope Kay keeps him around. I'm just starting to find him interesting.

# # #

Friday night finds me at Kay's door, the music blasting through the open windows as I stand on the porch debating with myself. Her parties are always wild events, or so I've heard. I've never had the nerve to attend one.

The door flings open, and there's Kay, a wide smile on her face as she all but drags me inside. "It's about time. What kept you?"

"I had work to do."

She rolls her eyes at me. "You always have work to do. You need to kick back and have some fun."

She drags me by the hand and starts dancing with me to some nondescript New Wave song, and I can feel myself loosen up a little. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"You want something to drink?" Kay yells in my ear. "There's a keg in the bathtub."

"Sure." I tag along behind her, shoving my way through the crowd until we reach the bathroom. She grabs a cup and fills it, shoving it into my hand.

"Now, get out there. Mingle. Make friends."

I can't help laughing a little. "You don't know me very well, do you?"

"Just go." Kay pushes me out the door and back into the madding crowd, and suddenly I feel very alone.

I end up in a corner of the living room, nursing my beer and watching the ever-growing crowd. There is a certain entertainment value in watching a bunch of drunks trying to sing along to 'Come On Eileen' and failing miserably.

Someone crashes into me from the side, nearly spilling my beer. "Christ, watch it." I snap.

"It was a chain reaction." Greg's voice answers, slightly slurred. He and I meet each other's eyes. "Oh, it's you. Kay's friend, right?"

"Right." I answer back. "Julian."

"Julian." He repeats, looking thoughtful. After studying me for a moment, he speaks again. "I'm going to burn one out back. Come with me."

"Are you serious?"

Greg rolls his eyes. "You're wound up way too tight. You need to relax, and I need to get away from this damn crowd. Are you coming or not?"

"Sure." I follow him through the crowd, finally making our way out to the porch, ignoring the snide remarks that are a natural response to two men leaving the house together.

Greg leans against the porch railing and pulls something out of his pocket. A flash of light highlights his angular face, followed by an acrid smell as he lights the joint and passes it to me.

I take a long hit, coughing as the smoke hits my lungs, nearly choking when I try to hold it in. Greg lets out a short laugh. "First time?"

"Hardly." I answer. "I just don't do it much. No time."

He looks down at me and takes the joint from me. "You should make time."

"Come on." I scoff. "You're in med school. You know how tough it is."

"It's not that tough." Greg rolls his eyes and takes another hit, closing his eyes and tilting his head back before releasing the smoke in a long plume.

"Maybe not for you." I tell him, taking a shorter hit this time. "I have to kill myself to get anywhere with it."

"Then why do it?' Greg looked at me with a curious expression.

"It's all I've ever wanted to do." I answer.

"And if you fail?"

Something clutches in me at that question. It's a question that's haunted me my entire college career. "I don't know." I let out a little laugh. "Guess I'd better make sure I don't fail."

Greg shakes his head. "All work and no play makes Julian a dull boy."

"Maybe." I shrug. "But I'll be successful."

We fall into silence, passing the joint back and forth. The music continues to blast out of the house, and I can hear people singing along.

Greg merely rolls his eyes. "When are they going to play some real music?"

I snicker, the pot having its desired effect on me. "And what do you consider real music?"

"Not this shit, that's for sure." Greg grumbles, taking a final hit before extinguishing the joint. "Been on a Beatles kick lately."

I smile at the revelation. "My older sister used to listen to them all the time."

There was silence between us for a moment before he spoke again. "You know 'Hey Jude'?"

"Yes."

"You know who Paul McCartney wrote that for, right?"

I nod. "John Lennon's son, Julian."

Greg smiles, the first real smile I've seen on him, and it softens his whole face. It's beautiful. Suddenly he bursts into song. "_Hey, Jude…don't make it bad. Take a sad song…and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart…then you can start to make it better._" He glances over at me. "Although in your case, I guess it would be him instead of her."

I shake my head. Even though this is a college town, the men aren't exactly leaping out of the closet around here. Not that I blame them.

"I think I'm going to call you Jude from now on." Greg tells me, pushing himself off the porch railing. "See you in class."

"Bye." I watch him go, moving easily through the crowd. I'm not entirely sure, but I think there's a possibility that I've just made a friend. Kay will be thrilled.

# # #

**You know what to do. Read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

_November 1983_

I'm relaxing on my bed after a tough week of classes when I hear the knock on my apartment door. I can't imagine who it might be. Kay has already taken off for Thanksgiving break, and all she could talk about was convincing Greg to go with her. I assume she had succeeded in her quest.

The knocking continues insistently as I quickly go to answer it. "Hold on, okay?" I yell. "I'm coming."

I push myself up to look through the peephole, surprised at my visitor. Apparently Kay didn't succeed in Mission Bring Home The Boyfriend.

I open the door and step aside. "Greg, this is a surprise. I thought you were going away with Kay."

He fixes me with a sharp glare. "I don't do family stuff."

"I see." I answer carefully, even though I don't. Kay and Greg have been going out for almost three months now. It only seems right that he go meet her family.

"No you don't." Greg scoffs and plops down on my couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I decided to stay here." I explain. "Too much work to do."

"Still on that work kick, huh?" Greg snorts derisively. "It's Thanksgiving break. Give it a rest."

"I am." I tell him. "Matter of fact, I was reading when you showed up."

"Wow, stop the presses." Greg mocks. "Jude, slow down a little. The excitement might kill you."

I let out a sharp huff. "Just because I don't like to party doesn't mean my life is boring."

"Didn't say that." Greg answered. "But it wouldn't kill you to get out more."

"Fine." I fold my arms over my chest. "What do you suggest?"

"Pizza, followed by live music." Greg tells me. "I know a few places."

I glance down at my current choice of attire, a U of M sweatshirt, jeans, and worn out jogging shoes. Greg waves a hand at me. "You're a student. You're supposed to look like crap."

I can't help comparing myself to Greg. Under his ski jacket, he's wearing a button down oxford shirt, the tails hanging over his jeans, those red and white Nikes still on his feet, although they look a little more worn than they did back in September.

He gives me an exasperated look. "Are we going out, or are you going to stare at me all night?"

I choose not to answer that, instead grabbing a down vest off the rack near the door. "Fine, let's go."

We end up in a pizza place not far off campus, sharing a large pepperoni and a pitcher of cheap beer, eating in somewhat comfortable silence. He glances at the girls who pass through, barely nodding in acknowledgement when a few of them flash him a quick smile.

"You're pretty popular." I comment casually.

"Jealous?" He asks mockingly.

"Not at all."

Greg looks thoughtful, pondering a piece of pepperoni he's just pulled off his slice. "Where do you go, you know, to meet people?"

"I don't really know." I admit. "Kay keeps trying to fix me up with people, but…" I shake my head.

"Right." Greg rolls his eyes. "No time."

"Exactly." I feel defensive for no good reason.

Greg falls silent again, taking a long drink of his beer before appraising me again. "You're using it as an excuse."

"So what if I am?" I answer sharply. "It's hardly your concern."

He narrows his eyes at me before shaking his head. "Right. Ready to hear some music?"

"Sure."

We split the tab and head out into the night to a nearby bar. The music is audible even through the closed door, and I can spot a slight smile come over Greg's face.

Even though I know I don't have a chance with him, I still enjoy watching him as we find a table and order another pitcher of beer. He's drumming his fingers on the table, bobbing his head to the music, clearly enjoying himself.

The music is good, and after a couple more beers, I finally feel myself start to unwind a little. It feels good to kick back and relax with…

Is Greg a friend? I'm still not sure. We sit in renal systems a couple times a week, trading quips and making fun of our professor, and we've sort of hung out with Kay. But I always felt like a third wheel with those two, especially when they would practically start making out in the living room as if I wasn't there.

He's still not exactly what I would call friendly, keeping everyone at arm's length, Kay included. I've hung out with him for a couple of months, but I don't feel like I know him any better than I did back in September. I wonder if Kay feels the same way.

The set ends, and Greg finishes off the beer in the pitcher, draining the glass before looking across the table at me. "You look like you're finally starting to loosen up."

I let out a brief laugh. "I kind of feel loose."

Greg rolls his eyes. "You're drunk."

"Just a little."

He smirks at me. "I like you. You're a cheap date."

"Shut up." I ball up a napkin and throw it at him.

He laughs, and I catch a good look at him. When he's relaxed, like he is now, he really is quite handsome. Now I finally see what Kay sees in him.

"Quit staring at me." His expression changes slightly. "It's creepy."

"Why?" I stare harder, resting my chin on my hands.

"Because, it just…is." Greg grumbles, glancing down at the table.

"Because I'm queer, right?" I snort derisively.

"Duh." He snorts in disgust.

"Oh, relax." I roll my eyes. "I know you're not like that. You're perfectly safe."

Greg nods, still looking vaguely uncomfortable, and I let out a little huff. "Look, I know this is weird, okay? Hanging out with my friend's boyfriend isn't exactly how I planned on spending my Thanksgiving weekend, either."

Greg continues to stare at the table, playing with his beer glass. "We broke up." He tells me quietly. "I didn't want to go with her for Thanksgiving, we had this huge fight, and she stormed off."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." I'm surprised. Normally Kay would have called me immediately, nearly hysterical.

Greg's eyes flick up to meet mine. "Really? I figured you'd be the first one she told." He shakes his head. "Anyway. I didn't want to go with her, and I didn't want to go home, so…I took a chance and knocked on your door."

I look Greg in the eye, trying to figure out what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes. "I'm glad you did. You were right. I need to get out more."

Greg gives me a small smile at that. "Yeah, you do."

He flags down the waitress and gives her some cash to cover the beer before rising from the table, stumbling slightly.

I can't help but laugh at him. "I thought you could hold your alcohol."

"Usually I can." Greg answers.

"So what's your problem?"

"No problem." He slings an arm around my shoulders as we lumber out of the bar. "Just drank a little more than usual."

We stumble out onto the sidewalk, his arm still looped around my shoulder, and he suddenly starts singing. "_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na…na, na, na, na…hey Jude…_" He squeezes me a little. "Come on, Jude, sing it with me."

Before I know it we're both bellowing the closing chorus as we wander back to my apartment. I let out a little sigh as I stand on the porch. "I guess this is where I get off."

Greg snorts. "All by yourself?"

I groan at his crude joke. "Sadly, yes."

"That is sad." Greg gives me a serious look. "You should do something about that."

"Maybe I will." I'm feeling oddly bold. Not that it will go anywhere. I'm pretty sure the amount of beer I've consumed will keep much of anything from happening.

Greg laughs and shakes his head, taking a step back and shoving his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket. "No you won't. You'll just hole up in your tower, toiling away, jacking off when the urge gets too strong."

He's probably right, but I don't need it laid out for me. "Or maybe I'll get out there and find someone to do it for me."

Greg's expression changes, and he seems curious. "So that's how it works, huh? I've always wondered."

"Always?" I move closer, emboldened by the alcohol that courses through my veins.

He looks a little awkward, and he takes another step back. "I don't mean like that. I mean…theoretically."

"Oh." A long silence stretches out between us. Finally I speak again, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I wasn't…you know…"

"Yeah, sure." Greg looks at me skeptically, still unsure. "Have you even done anything with anyone?"

"I've tried with a few girls." I tell him.

"And you didn't like it." Greg concludes. "So what, you let a few bad experiences scare you off?"

"Nooo…" I spoke carefully, not sure that I really wanted to reveal so much of myself. "I just…I don't know. I was always attracted to guys, even though I knew it was wrong. I just couldn't help it."

Greg rolled his eyes. "It's not a mental disease anymore, you know."

"No, but it's still an aberration." I point out. "That's what my parents say."

"You still care what your parents think?" Greg looks incredulous. "How old are you?"

"I care long enough for them to finish paying for med school." I laugh darkly. "I'll come out to them eventually. Maybe."

"If it were me, I wouldn't give a shit." Greg told me. "My dad doesn't like me anyway. What's one more thing?"

I sigh, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets. "I'm still close to them. I guess I just don't want to break their hearts."

Greg simply stood there, looking oddly pensive. "That's good, I guess. That you still get along with them."

"Yeah." I shake my head. "I'm thinking that will change if I tell them."

"So don't tell them." Greg snaps. "Live a lie."

"I usually do." I answer quietly. "Maybe someday I won't have to, but for right now…I guess I have to."

Greg studies me, moving a little closer. "Have you ever done anything with a guy?"

"Not much." I reply, my heart pounding a little faster.

"So how do you know if you like it?"

"Oh, trust me." I laugh nervously. "I know."

He tilts his head, his eyes boring into me. I don't even dare to hope that Greg's about to do what I think he's going to do. He's not into guys, I'm sure of that. And while I find him attractive in that awkward, geeky kind of way, I'm not sure I want anything from him. Besides, how weird would it be for Kay and me to have had the same guy?

In the midst of my musings, I feel Greg's lips touch mine. It's more of a brush, really, a very tentative move, as if I'm going to give him queer cooties if he goes much farther.

He pulls back, regarding me curiously. "That wasn't so bad. I don't see what the big deal is."

"You barely touched me." I snort. "I dare you to kiss me for real."

Where the hell did that come from? What was this, junior high?

A half smile curved over Greg's face as he leaned in again, stopping just short of my lips. "You sure about this?"

"I'm _very _sure." I answer boldly. "What about you?"

"Never been more sure of anything." He responds.

"Then do it." I challenge him.

He closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips to mine, not nearly so tentative this time. His tongue grazes along my lips, seeking entrance, and I let him in, allowing his tongue to wander around my mouth until it tangles up with mine.

I slide my hands to the back of his head, running my fingers through his surprisingly soft hair while he runs his thumbs over my cheekbones. Neither one of us has broken the kiss. If anything, it's deepening, and I don't want it to stop.

One of us lets out a little moan, and I can't tell if it's him or me. He takes my face in his hands, pressing further until our bodies are nearly touching, and I'm almost praying that he can't feel my reaction.

Something bumps against my leg, and it nearly startles me. Greg might not be able to feel my reaction, but his is blatantly obvious. I don't want him to freak out on me, not when his mouth on mine feels so damn good, so I decide to ignore it.

Finally he breaks away from me, regarding me with a slightly wide-eyed expression. "You're a really good kisser." He tells me. "You might have turned me."

"Oh shut up." I snap irritably. "That's ridiculous."

Greg keeps staring at me, not moving away. "So now what?"

"What do you mean?" I'm a little baffled.

"I mean…what comes next?" He continues. "This isn't like doing it with a girl. You're going to have to tell me what to do."

He's got to be kidding me. There's no way Greg wants this. He was just dating my friend a few days before.

I push him away. "You don't really want this."

"Not-So-Little Greg would argue otherwise." Greg counters.

"But you're _straight_." I argue.

He sighs. "I'm a little drunk and a lot horny. So are you. Might as well solve both our problems."

I stare him down, searching for any sign that he's not absolutely serious about this. I can't find any.

"Fine." I relent, turning to open the main door to the apartment house. "Come on."

He follows me up the stairs to my door, and I fumble with the door to open it. The last time I had a guy back here, it didn't go so well, and I have no urge for a repeat performance.

I hear Greg close the door behind him, and he takes off the ski jacket and dumps it on the floor. I'm too nervous to say anything, still worried that he'll bolt on me. He moves to remove my vest, letting it slide to the floor, and suddenly his lips are on mine again, his tongue slipping into my mouth and rolling around, his hands moving up and down my back.

I eagerly take him in, pressing my body against his and sliding my arms around his waist, nearly pushing him into the door. The kissing becomes more intense, if that's possible, and I can feel his hands start to creep up the back of my sweatshirt.

I take that as my cue to move further, my shaky hands moving to the buttons on his shirt, slowly undoing them one at a time until it's fully open, letting my hands spread over his chest, running through the wiry hair there.

Greg pulls back ever so slightly, surprised to find himself nearly half undressed already. Suddenly he seems unsure, though his hands slide up the front of my sweatshirt, sending little waves of pleasure through me.

His thumbs brush over my nipples, and he halfheartedly gives my chest a little squeeze. I gasp in response, arching into him, and his mouth quirks in a little half-smile.

"See, this is the weird part." He tells me, lightly running his hands over my chest. "No boobs."

I roll my eyes and lean in to kiss him. "It's not too late to call it a night."

His surprisingly soft lips and tongue are his only reply as he pushes the sweatshirt up and off my body, letting it land God knows where, and I do the same with his shirt. We're pressed chest to chest, skin to skin, hands roaming everywhere.

I start moving toward the button on his jeans, but Greg makes a little noise in response.

"What's the matter?" I murmur. "Chickening out?"

"Not a chance." Greg rasps out. "You?"

"No way." I respond, working at the button and zipper on his jeans.

"Hold on." Greg mutters, running his hands up and down my ribcage.

He _is _chickening out on me. I should have known. I let out a short sigh. "Look, if you don't want to do this, it's no big deal. I won't tell anyone."

"That's not it." Greg shakes his head, his hands continuing to move over my body. "I want it. It's just…you know. Weird. That's all."

I roll my eyes. "Let me guess. 'It's not you, it's me.'"

Greg gives me a dark look. "Sure, mock me. Just because you've done this before and I haven't…"

"This is about as far as I've ever gotten with a guy." I tell him, not just to reassure him, but because it's the truth.

"You're kidding me." Greg glares at me.

"I swear that I'm not." I brush a bit of unruly brown hair away from his forehead. "But if you still want to stop, we can."

Greg takes my face in his hands and captures my lips in a rough kiss, shoving his tongue into my mouth and pushing me forward, nearly sending me to the floor. I find my footing just in time, pushing back with equal force, returning to finish what I started, and I can feel Greg following suit.

I slide his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing out as I do so, and I can feel my own throbbing, pressing against the tight material that still encloses it. Greg seems to take a deep breath before pushing down my jeans and underwear in one move, and I can feel the jolt when our cocks touch. Judging from the little gasp that escapes Greg's mouth, he felt it, too.

I guide him to the floor as best I can, but it isn't terribly graceful. We end up kind of falling over each other, and he cracks his head on the floor as he lands.

"Ow." He groans a little, and I can't help snickering a little. The situation is more than a little ridiculous. Neither one of us has much of a clue what we're doing here. It's merely blind desire that drives us.

"You okay?" I lean down to kiss him. "You want me to kiss your boo-boo?"

He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and strokes my jaw with his thumb. "My boo-boo isn't what needs to be taken care of."

"Your pillow talk needs work."

"Good thing there aren't any pillows, then." Greg answers. "We going to do this or what?"

He's starting to lose his nerve. For that matter, so am I. I nod firmly and return to kissing him, slowly, gently, working his jeans off him as far as I can before Greg shoves off his shoes and manages to kick them off the rest of the way.

"You next." He tells me after he pulls back. "Be damned if I'm the only one getting naked here."

Greg pushes me over to my back and tugs at my jeans while I get rid of my shoes, and we're soon both laying naked, hands exploring everywhere, finding all kinds of sensitive areas. His nipples, the small of my back, the inside of his thigh, the base of my throat.

I'm so into the exploration that I don't care if I ever get off. Greg, however, seems to feel differently, pressing his body against me and grinding our cocks together.

That nearly sends me over, the shockwaves of pleasure unlike anything I've ever felt. I've done the bump-and-grind thing, but having nothing between us changes the whole equation. Instead of being sort of uncomfortably pleasurable, it's unbelievably erotic, and I let out a groan as I arch toward him, meeting his thrusts stroke for stroke.

He wraps himself around me, his thrusts coming faster now as we both grunt and groan, both of us seeking release that seems like a lifetime in coming. Out of pure frustration, I slip a hand between us, taking both our cocks in my hand and tugging at them while we continue to thrust.

Finally he unloads with a loud moan in my ear, shooting sticky warm fluid all over us as I finish myself off not long after. I jerk upwards with a low moan, shaking as I come down, the feeling of release washing over me as I let my head hit the floor with a hard 'thunk'."

Greg stares down at me, seemingly fascinated. I give him a questioning look. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head before leaning down to give me a kiss. "Think we could do that again?"

"Are you serious?"

He shrugs, his eyes still looking a little glassy. Whether it's from the beer or the sex, I have no idea. "Yeah, I'm serious."

I let out a little sigh, reaching out to stroke his face. "Maybe we ought to wait until you're sober."

"How do you know I'm not?" He counters.

"Because I'm not. And I didn't have nearly as much to drink as you." I push him off me and stagger to my feet. "I need a shower."

I feel a hand wrap around my calf, and I look down to see Greg staring up at me, an almost sad expression in his eyes.

I let out a short huff. "Look, I'm not rejecting you. I just think that…you know, you'll change your mind when you sober up."

"I won't." He tells me stubbornly. "And I need a shower, too."

The sight of him spread out on my living room floor, covered in our fluids, that somber expression on his face does something to me that I can't quite explain. I hold out a hand to him. "Come shower with me."

He smirks and uses my hand to pull himself up, leaning down to give me a sloppy kiss before following me into the bathroom.

We have a repeat performance in the shower, and Greg takes the lead this time, wrapping his long fingers around my member and slowly working it up and down while I do the same to him, staying in until the hot water is gone and we're both completely spent.

He falls asleep first, snoring deeply as he curls under the blankets, still naked. I can't help but think what will happen when I wake up. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find him gone, and I can imagine the awkward glances we'll share in class later on.

For now, though, I'm not going to worry about it. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

# # #

**You know what to do. Read and review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Nope, still don't own House, just the OCs, as usual.**

# # #

_December, 1983_

"Hey, Julian." Kay's cheerful voice cuts into my thoughts as she barges into my apartment.

I groan internally. It's a good thing she hadn't done that about three hours ago, when Greg and I were rolling around the floor of my living room. She never would have recovered from the shock.

"Hi, Kay." I sigh and shut off the tape recorder. "What brings you here?"

"Greg's band is playing tonight." She chides me. "Did you forget?"

As a matter of fact, I had. I'm sure Greg had said something at some point, but I was having a hard time remembering. "No, of course not." I lie. "Matter of fact, I was about to go get ready right now."

"You'd better hurry up." Kay tells me with a note of exasperation. "If we get there before eight, we won't have to pay cover."

I check my watch. It's nearly six-thirty now. I quickly gather up my notes and books and set them aside, heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Kay's been remarkably cool about her breakup with Greg. I don't think she's aware of just how deep things have gotten between Greg and me. Matter of fact, I know she isn't. She's still trying to set me up with anyone she can think of.

"Did you call Mark?" She hollers as I finish my shower and make my way back to my room.

"Sorry. Forgot." I call back. Truthfully, I wasn't interested in Mark. He was a pretentious art student whose whole life seemed to revolve around the Ann Arbor art scene. I'm all for expanding my cultural horizons, but I'd like to talk about my own interests, too. Believe it or not, I do have some.

Kay pokes her head into my room as I'm buttoning up my shirt. "You lie." She tells me.

"So why did you ask?"

"Just wanted to see what you'd say." She glares at me. "Makes me think there's other things you've been lying to me about."

Something clutches at me, but I quickly scold myself. Kay and Greg are long over. Besides, Greg and I aren't exactly dating. We're just having mutually satisfying sex with a side of something like friendship, as close to it as Greg allows, anyway.

"It doesn't matter." Kay tells me. "Your life, your business. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy." I tell her. "I don't have to have someone in my life in order to be happy."

Kay lets out a little 'hmph'. "More lies. Come on, let's go. It's going to be a madhouse."

I follow her out, enjoying the relative warmth of the evening with only a denim jacket. It's been an oddly warm December, and I can't help but feel grateful. Normally by this time I'm already sick of snow and cold. When I graduate, I'm getting as far away from Michigan as I possibly can.

We arrive at the bar, pushing our way to the bar for a pitcher of beer. Kay cuts a wide swath, shoving her way through and yelling at anyone who gets in her way. Her brash personality works to our advantage as we find a table near the front.

The band is just setting up, getting ready to warm up and do their mic check. I spot Greg and give him a little wave. His eyes go a little wide at the sight of Kay, but he returns the wave.

Kay waves back, thinking it was meant for her. Who am I to destroy her illusion? They're still friends, after a fashion, although I know that Kay would like nothing better than to rekindle their previous romance.

If only she knew. I smile slightly to myself and pour a beer.

"Do you think he's seeing anyone?" Kay asks me.

"Who, Greg?"

"Yeah."

I shake my head. "I think you really just need to let him go."

She narrows her eyes at me. "And I think you know something I don't."

"And I don't think it's any of your business." I counter, pouring her a beer and handing it to her.

She lets the subject drop and we move on to other topics before the lights go down for the first set.

Greg's band is good. Nothing spectacular, but they're enjoyable to listen to, and Greg can really go on that guitar. I never realized how talented he really is. When we get together, there's not a lot of talking going on.

"Wow, they're really good." Kay whispers to me, echoing my thoughts.

I nod, continuing to drink my beer and watch the band. My focus is mostly on Greg. Even as he plays, his expression remains serious, his fingers dancing easily over the strings, completely in his own world. When the crowd whoops and hollers after his solo, he barely seems to notice.

The crowd increases as the set goes on, and when the lights come up after the set, I'm surprised to see others have joined us at our table. I assume they're friends of Kay's.

"Julian." Kay puts an arm around me. "Meet Kenneth. Kenneth, Julian."

"Hi." I nod absentmindedly, almost automatically programming myself to not be interested. "Nice to meet you."

"Same." Kenneth flashes me a warm smile and extends a hand. I do the same, feeling his fingers wrap around my hand. They're long and bony, his grip warm and strong.

"So." He continues. "You're a med student?"

I nod. "Second year."

Kenneth nods in return, his eyes never losing contact. "So it won't be long and I'll be able to call you Doctor Julian, right?"

"Morris." I blurt out for no good reason. "I'll be Doctor Morris."

"Doctor Julian Morris." Kenneth looks thoughtful as he tries out my name. Something about the way he says it sends little shivers through me. He nods and smiles approvingly. "I like it."

I let out a nervous laugh, playing with my beer glass. "Uh…thanks? I guess?"

Kenneth chuckles in return, a deep, mellow sound that only serves to reinforce my nervousness. "Sure."

Kay pats me on the shoulder and rises from her chair. "I'll be right back. Hopefully the bathroom lines aren't too long."

I panic slightly when she leaves. I have no idea what to say to Kenneth, how to start up any kind of conversation with him. I almost wonder if it's worth it, considering how poorly things have gone with all the others Kay has attempted match me up with.

"They're pretty good, aren't they?" Kenneth nods toward the small stage.

I sigh a little internally in relief. "They are."

His eyes scan the stage, where the band is setting up again. I turn to see Greg strapping his guitar around his neck, playing a few notes and tuning up the instrument.

"Guitar player's kind of cute." Kenneth throws out casually.

"He's a friend of mine." I answer sharper than I intend, some odd possessive urge rising in me.

"Oh." Kenneth's eyebrows shoot up. "Just a friend?"

I'm not sure how to answer that, and I suddenly feel conflicted. Revealing the true nature of things between Greg and I could only cause problems. On the other hand, I'm reluctant to give Kenneth any sort of opening.

Finally I sigh and nod. "Yes, just a friend."

Kenneth nods in reply, seemingly relieved. My brain scrambles a little. Surely he's not going to try to hit on Greg? I try to imagine Greg's reaction to that.

"I'm glad to hear it." Kenneth tells me. "He looks like he could kick my ass."

I'm a little baffled. It must show on my face, because Kenneth lets out a little laugh. "If I'm going to pursue you, I'd rather not deal with any jealous boyfriends."

I feel my face heat up. The idea that someone is not only interested in me, but is willing to admit it in public is almost overwhelming.

He rises and slides into the seat that Kay vacated, casually resting his arm on the back of my chair. "What are you doing after this?"

I choke. I don't have a real plan. Most likely I'd go home and wait for Greg to show up, if he was going to show up.

I glance up at the stage, and Greg catches my eye. His eyes narrow slightly before he returns to tuning up his guitar, turning away to talk to the drummer.

Finally I find my voice. "I…I don't know yet."

Kenneth laughs again, the deep tone almost vibrating against my ear. "Don't worry. We've got the rest of the night to figure it out."

I swallow hard, willing my hardening flesh to just _behave_ already. I know Greg and I aren't officially anything, but I can't help but feel as if I'm cheating on him. It's a terrible feeling.

Kay returns just as the lights start to go down, complaining about the impossibly long lines to the bathroom, oblivious to what has transpired while she was away. I can't help but feel a little relieved as the lights go down and the music starts again. My decision has only been delayed, I know that. Eventually I'm going to have to give Kenneth an answer.

The sad thing is, I want to go off with Kenneth. He seems open, willing in a way that Greg never is and most likely never will be. However, I owe it to Greg to talk to him, to get an idea for what is going through his mind. His reaction will go a long way toward helping make a decision tonight.

I chide myself, realizing how silly I sound. This isn't a life or death decision. I'm simply in the rare position of being caught between two men, one that I'm already sort of involved with and one I wouldn't mind trying to get involved with.

I don't have any frame of reference for this situation. It's never happened to me before, mostly because I've been too damned afraid for too damned long to even try to get involved with someone.

Before I know it, the set is over and the lights are coming up again. Kenneth's arm is still looped over the back of my chair, and when I turn my head, he's grinning at me like a fool.

I quickly rise to my feet, nearly knocking over the chair in the process. "I've got to go." I tell him, and I can see the disappointment cloud over his eyes.

"Sure." He nods before gesturing to Kay for a pen. She digs one out of her purse and hands it to him, and he scribbles something on a napkin, shoving it in the pocket of my shirt. "Call me."

With that he's gone, weaving his way through the crowd, and I'm left a little stunned. I pull out the napkin and smooth it out in my hand, studying his tidy numbers, his precise lettering.

"So?" Kay nudges me. "You _are_ going to call him, right?"

"Maybe."

She huffs irritably and folds her arms over her chest. "Of course you are. You need this. You need to get out, do stuff, date, get _laid_, for Christ's sake."

I'm tempted to tell her that I'm getting laid on a regular basis, but decide against it. "Right, I know."

Kay rolls her eyes. "All work and no play…"

"…means I graduate on time and achieve my dream." I tell her firmly.

She shakes her head. "I'll meet you at the car."

Kay leaves, and the bar is starting to clear out. The band is still on stage, packing up instruments and breaking down the sound system. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach, not sure how to handle things.

"Hey." I manage to get out.

Greg turns from his guitar case, nodding at me. "Hey."

I take a deep breath. "What are you doing tonight?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Thought maybe you'd like to…get together."

His expression hardens, and he bends down so that we're almost face to face. "Don't you already have plans?"

"What? Oh, no." I shake my head. "That guy…I just met him tonight. Kay introduced us. You know how she is."

Greg nods. "She still doesn't know. Because you still haven't told her. Because you're a chicken shit."

I don't understand what's going on. I thought Greg wanted to keep things undercover. That's the whole reason I haven't said anything. I'm protecting _both_ of us. "Me? What about you?"

Greg snorts and shakes his head, rising and returning to pick up his guitar. He looks down at me with an expression that almost resembles a sneer. "Go find your little queen. I've got other things to do tonight."

I'm stunned, but I'm not sure whether to be hurt or not. I almost want to explain things, explain that I had no intention of going off with Kenneth, but I know that's not entirely true.

I'll be damned if I let my emotions show. "I've got to go. Kay's waiting for me."

"I'm sure she's not the only one waiting for you." Greg snaps.

Realization dawns on me. "Greg, if you don't want me to go, I won't."

Greg rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Just go. We didn't have anything going on anyway."

"But…"

"I _said_…" Greg speaks slowly, with mock patience. "There's nothing between us." His face is a hard mask, unreadable. "See you around."

I'm rooted to my spot, trying to understand what's just happened. Did Greg just break up with me?

Of course not. I snap out of my thoughts and move toward the exit. Breaking up would imply that we were together to begin with. Which, as Greg is so kind to remind me, we weren't.

I dig into my pocket for the napkin and find a nearby pay phone, dropping in a quarter and dialing Kenneth's number. He answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Kenneth?" I curse myself for my fit of nerves. "Hey, it's…um, it's Julian. From the bar? With the band?"

There's a long pause, and I find myself holding my breath until he lets out a short laugh. "Of course. Doctor Julian Morris. To what do I owe the honor of this phone call?"

I take a deep breath. "Just wondering if…you still wanted to…you know…"

I'm fumbling for words, and the silence on the other end isn't helping. Finally Kenneth breaks the silence with a nervous laugh. "Now, I want to tell you that I was _not_ waiting by the phone. However…" His voice drops to a low, soft tone. "…I'm very, _very _glad you called."

I silently sigh in relief. "I'm glad I did, too."

# # #

**You know what comes next. Read and review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Insert usual disclaimers and stuff here. Don't own the House characters, just the OCs.**

# # #

_October, 2009, The Adirondacks, New York_

I pick up my packet at the registration table, nodding politely as I move on to check in to my room. It's been a long drive from Ann Arbor, and I'm exhausted mentally and physically.

Kenneth would have scolded me for driving instead of flying, but truthfully, I've always enjoyed driving. It clears my mind in a way few things do, and I've needed this drive for a long time.

I was scheduled for this medical conference months ago, long before Kenneth got sick. As he started to steadily decline, I wanted to back out of it, to stay with him until the end. It was one of our regular arguments.

"_Doctor James Wilson is speaking, sweetheart."_ He would remind me. _"You've admired him for years. How many chances are you going to get to speak to him face to face?"_

As it turned out, the decision was made for us long before I was ready. Kenneth passed away in early September after a mercifully brief battle. It was one of the few 'good' things one could say about pancreatic cancer.

I brush the tears away as I find my way to the small cabin that will be my home for the weekend. These last couple of months have been an adjustment, to say the least. No one is waiting for me when I arrive home at the end of a long day, no one is there to regale me with tales of his young art students.

The nights are the worst. Our bed is so empty and cold without him there. I can't imagine anyone else in that bed after so many years with Kenneth. Twenty-five years we were together, longer than many straight couples we knew, long enough to watch my friend Kay go through three marriages. Last time I spoke to her, she was working on number four. "Fourth time's the charm, Julian!" She told me cheerfully when she told me of her recent engagement. "You're going to be there to give me away, aren't you?"

"Perhaps you should get your last ex-husband to do the honors." I had snapped back, in no mood for her antics. "Passing the torch, if you will."

"Julian." She had sighed patiently. "Some of us don't get it right the first time. You and Kenneth were lucky."

Lucky indeed. I push the memory out of my mind and lay down on the bed, idly flipping through the conference schedule. _Patient Perceptions Of Complications In End-Stage Chemotherapy, presented by James E. Wilson of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital._

My stomach does a little flip at the topic, my mind going back to the last month of Kenneth's life, when he was still in his right mind, when he refused another round of chemo. _"Just drug me up." _He had told his doctor. _"I'm done."_

The doctor in me knew he was right, that there was nothing logically to be done for him but make him as comfortable as possible to ease his suffering. The end was coming, and there was nothing anyone could do.

The man in me fought and screamed and railed at the unfairness of it all. Typical drama queen behavior, Kenneth would tell me. I didn't care. I was losing the man I loved. I had been sure we would spend the rest of our lives together, until death do us part.

Little did I know how soon that death would come.

I toss the program guide aside and push myself off the bed, swinging open the French doors that lead out to the deck overlooking the mountains. Fall is in full swing, the leaves bursting with color, and the air has just a bit of a bite to it. It's my favorite season, always bringing to mind my days at the University of Michigan, when I was too damn busy working my ass off to enjoy it.

I'm lost in reverie when I hear a pair of voices on the deck next to me. Two men are deep in conversation, and I keep hearing bits and pieces, but not enough to put together what they're talking about. Just as well. It's none of my business.

One voice persists, however, and I can't place it, but it seems vaguely familiar. If I go back far enough in my memory, I can almost trace it. I tune in a little closer.

The voice is gravelly with age, but unmistakable. I wander over to the side of the deck to get closer, just making out the outlines of their figures in the dusk.

They're still arguing, and one man throws his hands up in the air. "I'm through talking about this, House."

I freeze. This can't be. After all these years, what are the chances of being at the same medical conference as Greg House? I start to panic a little until I realize that not only can't he see me, he's not paying the least bit of attention to me.

All his attention is focused on whoever he's yelling at, his arms waving as he continues his tirade. I can't help but smile a little. Some things never change.

The voices fade as the two men retreat inside their cabin, and suddenly I'm curious. The air gets chillier as the sun drops, and I finally decide to go inside.

I immediately find my phone and call Kay. She answers on the third ring. "Julian! It's about time."

"Greg House is at this conference." I blurt out.

"Really?" She sounds surprised. "That's…um…wow. Really?"

"Really." I tell her firmly. "He's right next door."

There's a long silence. "Look, I know you've been having a hard time ever since Kenneth died...are you sure it's really him?"

"Of course I'm sure." I snap. "I'm not imagining things."

"Okay." She replies without much conviction. "Well…if you see him, tell him I said hello." Another pause. "Are you okay?"

"Okay enough." I answer with a sigh. "I'll talk to you some other time."

"Bye." With that we end the call, and I go through my usual bedtime ritual before pulling out the photo of me and Kenneth at our commitment ceremony so many years ago. I give it a quick kiss before setting it on the bedside table.

"I love you." I whisper. "Good night."

Exhaustion pulls me under almost as soon as I turn out the light and lie against the pillows. For some reason Greg's voice floats through my dreams that night instead of Kenneth's.

# # #

I awaken the next morning still groggy, but unable to sleep any longer. It's a pattern I've regrettably fallen into over the last few months, habitually attuning myself to any unusual noises that might mean Kenneth needs my help.

Of course, he no longer needs me, but my body hasn't quite gotten the message yet.

I push myself out of bed and force myself to shower and dress, picking up the program to scan over the day's schedule. There's not much of interest, although I can't help noting that there's an 80s dance this evening.

A chuckle escapes my mouth. Kenneth would have had a blast. He could tear up a dance floor back in the early days of our relationship, when we would make road trips to Detroit nearly every weekend to hit the gay bars and make utter fools of ourselves. _"You__** will**__ loosen up, and you __**will **__have a good time, so help me God."_ He would tell me before every road trip, and of course, he was right. We would leave at the end of the night, sweaty and exhilarated, our lust for each other oddly renewed by the contact with all those equally hot and sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

My thoughts drift to Greg. He wasn't much of a dancer, if I remembered correctly. I wonder if he'll make an appearance tonight. What would I say if I ran into him? What if it's not him at all, just my sleep-deprived and grieving brain filling in the blanks?

I have to be reasonable. Even if it is Greg, it's unlikely he'll make any friendly overtures if we run into each other. After that night at the bar, when he had told me there was nothing between us, I never saw him again. What made him disappear, I had no idea.

Nothing, my ass. There had been _something_, even if neither one of us were willing to admit it at the time. It was something that went beyond mere lust and mutual physical satisfaction. Perhaps if I hadn't met Kenneth, it would have developed into something more.

I would never know, and did it really matter anyway? No, no it did not. Things might have fallen apart between Greg and me anyway, for all I knew. Better not to dwell on the past.

I make my way to the lobby for the buffet, slipping through the crowd and filling a plate before finding an empty spot at a table. I'm sitting across from a dark-haired woman in a casual business outfit with a young girl seated on her lap. She's encouraging the child to eat, but the child seems more interested in what's going on around her than whatever is on her plate.

"Rachel, honey." Her voice is soft, though an exasperated note seems to creep in. "Would you like some pancakes?"

The child spots me, and I give her a little wave. She curls into the woman's chest, and the woman looks up at me with a warm smile. "She's a little shy around strangers."

"I understand." I tell her. "I'm much the same way."

We eat in silence for a few minutes until the child squirms again, obviously bored with breakfast and ready to move on. The woman sighs and prepares to leave.

"Oh, you don't have to leave." I find myself saying. "Sit, enjoy your breakfast."

"She's getting fussy." She explains. "If I don't get her out of here soon, the entire conference will have to witness her meltdown." She laughs a little. "And quite possibly mine."

I pat the chair next to mine. "Set her here. We'll chat while you eat."

She looks a little alarmed, cautious, and it occurs to me that I haven't so much as introduced myself. I extend a hand. "Julian Morris, MD. University Hospital, Ann Arbor."

Her expression has changed to one of curiosity. "Ann Arbor? I went to school there." She extends a hand to meet mine. "Lisa Cuddy, MD. Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Princeton, New Jersey. I'm the Dean of Medicine."

She seems young for such a position of power. "I went there as well." I tell her as we shake hands. "Med school class of '86."

Her eyes crinkle a little in amusement. "I'm afraid I was a few years behind you. Class of '92."

So, not as young as I thought she was, but still young for such a position. "I'm impressed. Dean of Medicine is a difficult job."

"It's not easy." She answers. "But I love it."

I nod towards the young child. "It must make parenting her quite a challenge."

Her face changes, her lips pressing together slightly. "It does. Fortunately, I have skilled help…most of the time. I didn't think I'd need the help this weekend. Obviously I didn't think this one through." She tilts her head at me. "Do you have children?"

"No." I shake my head. "My partner and I didn't have any."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! I'm sorry. I just assumed…well, you know." She laughs nervously.

"It's fine, Doctor Cuddy." I assure her. It still throws me after all these years that there are people in the world that apparently lack gaydar. "He was an elementary school art teacher. Used to tell me that all his students were like his children."

"Was?" Doctor Cuddy regards me with a worried expression.

"He died." I blurt out. "Pancreatic cancer. About two months ago now."

"I'm so sorry." She speaks in soothing tones.

"Yes." I answer softly, already feeling the emotion building. "Me too."

We finish breakfast in somewhat awkward silence, and even Rachel has managed to settle down for a few bites of pancake. As she gets up to leave, she gives me another once over. "Doctor Morris, what's your specialty?"

"Orthopedics." A bit of pride swells up in me. "I've been heading up the department for the last couple of years."

She nods thoughtfully. "The head of orthopedics at Princeton-Plainsboro has been talking about retirement for ages. One of these days he might actually do it." She smiles again. "I'd like to look over your CV, if you're interested in sending it to me."

I'm a little baffled. "And why would I want to work for Princeton-Plainsboro?"

The smile fades. "I just thought…perhaps…you would be interested in a change of scenery."

"I'm fine where I am." I tell her with a confidence I don't quite feel. "No change of scenery necessary."

She extends a hand to me, no small feat considering that she's still holding on to Rachel. "If you change your mind, e-mail me your CV. I would love to talk to you further."

They walk away, and I'm left contemplating cold pancakes and even colder coffee. I'm left with a very odd feeling about Lisa Cuddy, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

I shake off the thought and finish the coffee before dumping the pancakes and heading on to the presentation.

I lose track of the topic inside of five minutes, distracted by my prior conversation. Perhaps I shouldn't have dismissed Doctor Cuddy's offer so quickly. What harm could there be in simply discussing things with her? It's not as if I would _have_ to take a job if it's offered.

On the other hand, what's left for me back in Ann Arbor? A house filled to the brim with memories, a few friends, patients that I hardly ever have real contact with anymore. Maybe I'll take a glance at my CV when I get home from the conference. Sending it to Princeton-Plainsboro probably wouldn't be the worst idea.

The sound of a crying child behind me catches my attention, and I turn to see Doctor Cuddy shifting Rachel around and preparing to leave the presentation, murmuring apologies as she does so. I've long since lost interest in the presentation, so I impulsively rise and leave the room after her.

"Doctor Cuddy!" I call out as she attempts to soothe Rachel.

She turns to face me, her tense expression relaxing into a smile as she seems to recognize me. "Doctor Morris." She holds Rachel a little tighter as the child's tears continue. "Sorry. This is a little embarrassing."

I gesture for Rachel. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I was bored to tears, too."

This time Doctor Cuddy seems less anxious as she hands Rachel over, and the little girl wraps her arms around me, burrowing her head into my chest. It brings to mind all the times Kenneth and I took care of his seemingly never ending parade of cousins, nieces and nephews. While they were no substitute for our own children, I always enjoyed the experience.

Once Rachel settles down somewhat, I draw in a breath before speaking. "So…you mentioned something about sending you my CV?"

She nods, clearly interested. I debate internally for a moment before nodding in response. "I think you might want to watch your e-mail over the next few days."

Doctor Cuddy's face lights up in a smile. "Wonderful! I'll look forward to reading it over."

Rachel lets out a shaky little sigh, her breathing evening out. I pat her back and give Doctor Cuddy a little smile. "I think she fell asleep."

"Thank goodness." Doctor Cuddy sighs in relief and takes Rachel as I hand her over. "She didn't sleep very well last night. Change bothers her."

I can relate on both counts. "Well, it looks like she's getting some rest now. Maybe you can, too."

"I wouldn't count on that." She laughs softly, holding Rachel close. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, Doctor Cuddy." I answer. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

With that she strides away again, speaking to Rachel in soothing tones, and I suddenly feel my load lighten, just a little. Simply voicing my interest in moving on seems to make it feel more possible. Whether I'm truly ready to do that is another matter, but it's not something I have to decide right this moment. Instead, I decide to go back to the presentation. If nothing else, it'll kill time until lunch. I'll have plenty of time for internal debate later.

# # #

**Thank you for reading, as always. Feel free to leave a review on your way out.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay in posting. I would have had this up Monday if I'd had power. Stupid ice storms, anyway. :( But we're all back to some sort of normal now, and as usual, I don't own House (as if that weren't obvious).**

# # #

It's been a long day of presentations that have run the gamut from mildly interesting to mind-numbingly dull. By early evening, I find myself back in my room, debating whether I really want to drag myself out for this 80s dance. On one hand, I could stand a night of fun. On the other, so many of my memories of Kenneth stem from that time. Music has always served as a memory trigger for me. I'm not sure if I'm ready to face those triggers tonight.

Eventually I decide to go. It's better than spending the night alone. Not by much, but enough.

I get dressed and check myself out in the mirror, making a face at the reflection. When did I get so old? What little hair I do have has gone gray now, and my little pot belly has definitely grown a bit over the last few months.

I'm too old for this silliness. A nearly fifty-year-old man has no business trying to relive his glory years. I can think of a million reasons not to go to this thing, and yet, I find myself slipping the Ray Bans over my face and walking out of the room.

No, this isn't pathetic. Not at all.

I hear the music before I even get close to the conference room, and I can't help smiling a little. 'Safety Dance', by Men Without Hats. God, it's been years since I've heard this one.

I enter the room, the music blasting my eardrums as I make my way through the crowd to the bar. After ordering a beer, I lean against the makeshift bar and observe the proceedings.

The majority of the crowd is out there making fools of themselves. No surprise there. Outside of the actual presentations, the main reason doctors come to these conferences is to unwind and get out of their normal environments. I suppose I'm no exception tonight.

I take the beer, nodding graciously to the bartender as I continue to hold up the bar. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it.

"Still a wallflower, huh?" A familiar voice jolts me out of my thoughts. "Nice to know some things don't change."

I glance up and nearly choke on my beer. It's Greg, alright, dressed in 18th century finery. "Uh…I think you're a couple centuries off the mark."

Greg shrugs. "1780s, 1980s, same thing."

A thought occurs to me. "I suppose you could always pass it off as a Blackadder costume."

A little smirk crosses Greg's face. "How do you know that it isn't?"

"Good point." I take a drink of my beer, not sure what else to say. What do you say to a guy who left you behind years ago? Do I act as if nothing happened? Do I even mention the past?

"So what brings you here?" Greg asks me.

"James Wilson's presentation." I tell him. "I've followed his work for a long time, and this one sounded particularly interesting."

A brief expression flashes across Greg's face before he shakes his head. "Better enjoy it. It'll probably be his last one."

"Why do you say that?"

"Believe me, it's not what you think it is." Greg answers. "It's a career killer. I've been trying to talk him out of presenting it since before we left."

"Wait a minute." I'm incredulous. "You actually _know_ James Wilson?"

"He's been my best friend for almost twenty years. Been working down the hall from him for a long time." Greg replies. "He's the head of oncology."

"Oh." My mind slowly starts working over the details. James Wilson works for Princeton-Plainsboro, as does Lisa Cuddy. Which means that Greg does, too. "You work for Princeton-Plainsboro?"

"Still slow on the uptake, I see." Greg rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, technically I'm still employed there. Right now I'm sort of in…a consulting role. Long story."

"I see." I try for casual and fail. If I do end up working there, I'll probably see Greg on a regular basis. I'm not sure I'm ready to do that. "You know, I think I spoke to your boss earlier today. Lisa Cuddy?"

Greg gestures out to the dance floor with the cane I've only now noticed he uses. "That's her. The one pretending to be Jennifer Beals."

I can't help but laugh a little, watching Doctor Cuddy dancing with a youngish looking man. "She pulls it off pretty well."

Greg gives me a sharp look. "I thought you gay men had an eye for fashion."

"Tim Gunn I am not." I reply with a snort.

Greg eyes me up and down. "You don't pull off Sonny Crockett very well, either."

"You're right, I don't." I sigh heavily, pulling off my sunglasses and shoving them in my jacket pocket. "Just call me Matlock."

Greg laughs, a genuine smile lighting his rough features, and I can see just a glimpse of the young man he used to be. It sends a flutter of something through me, something I can't quite define.

I shake off the feeling and finish off my beer just as a slow song starts. It takes me a moment to recognize it, but the voice is unmistakable. Even when it was popular, it was never one of my favorites, which meant Kenneth immediately made it one of his. He would sing it at the top of his lungs any time he heard it, much to my irritation.

The last time he sang it was in the elevator on the way to one of his treatments. The song had taken on a different meaning by then. No longer merely a means of teasing me, it had become yet another of the million ways we were saying our goodbyes. Both of us were bawling like babies that day.

I quickly drain my beer and slam the empty bottle on the counter before rushing out of the conference room, barely hearing Greg's voice behind me. Before I know it I'm outside in the cool night air, surrounded by silence, my gasping breath the only sound.

"What the hell was that?" Greg's voice suddenly carries through the darkness.

I shake my head, blinking back the tears, willing myself to pull it together. "Nothing."

He limps around to face me, his intense eyes studying me, a scowl on his face. "You don't run out of a room during a Cyndi Lauper song over _nothing_."

"It's none of your business." I snap. "Butt out."

Greg backs away, leaning on his cane, obviously still trying to put things together. "Bad breakup?"

"Not a breakup."

"Then what?" Greg tilts his head curiously. "No marriage, so no divorce. No breakup which only leaves…" A notion dawns on him. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Death." Greg speaks calmly, quietly. He starts pacing, looking thoughtful. "But not a family member. A friend, maybe, if you were close enough. Seems unlikely, though."

"Kenneth." I blurt out. "His name was Kenneth. I met him the night we…I mean, the last time I saw you."

Greg's expression changes to something darker, and his eyes shift away. "The guy at the table." He shrugs casually. "I'm not surprised. He was all over you."

I feel a little smile creep onto my face. Greg has no idea. "We were together for almost twenty-five years." I take a deep breath, dreading what I know comes next. "He died almost two months ago. Complications from pancreatic cancer."

Greg presses his lips together, nodding firmly. "No wonder you were interested in Wilson's presentation."

I sigh, staring out into the night. Anything to avoid Greg's probing gaze. "He was ready to die long before I was ready to let him go. I was the one pushing for more treatments, more chemo, more anything that would keep him with me a little longer."

"No matter how much he had to suffer, right?" Greg's tone is almost accusatory.

"Right." I answer softly. "Selfish, I know."

"It is." He agrees, suddenly at my side.

I let out a short laugh. "We had some very interesting conversations while he was doped up. You know, before everything started to shut down." I swallow the lump that's growing in my throat. "I miss him so much."

I lose it then, sobbing almost uncontrollably, almost forgetting Greg is there until I feel a tentative hand on my shoulder. My emotional display has to be awkward for him. I'm not sure why he's still here.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to pull it together enough to explain myself, why I still feel so raw after so long. Except that it really hasn't been that long.

"Sorry." I finally speak when I feel like my voice won't crack with emotion.

"Don't be." He answers softly. "Sounds like things worked out for you. Except for the whole death part."

"It did." I reply. "We had a good life together." I finally decide to ask the question that has been bothering me ever since I first saw him here. "So what about you? I never saw you again after that night."

A soft thumping sound makes me look over, and Greg's head is down, his cane bouncing against the ground. "I had a meeting with the dean that morning. Found out I was getting expelled. That night was going to be my last night with the band. I was going to tell you, but…" He glances over at me. "…it looked like Kenneth already had his claws in you. Figured I didn't need to bother."

"You should have said something." I tell him in an exasperated tone. "I really was trying to dissuade him. It felt…you know, wrong. To let him hit on me when I was sort of with you."

Greg is quiet for a long time before he speaks again. "It wouldn't have mattered."

"Why?"

This time it's Greg that takes the deep breath. "Because you needed someone who would drag you out of the closet and force you to be yourself. I was never going to be that guy."

"You could have been." I insist.

Greg shakes his head. "No, no I wouldn't have."

I have to admit that he's probably right. If it hadn't been for Kenneth, I might not have finally embraced my identity as a gay man. Being with Kenneth was like a full immersion course in gay life and culture. The man had always lived out loud. It was one of the many things I'd admired about him.

We fall into silence again, both of us seemingly lost in our thoughts. Greg is the one who breaks it.

"You remember when I told you there was nothing between us?"

I laugh sharply. "How could I forget?"

He takes a breath, thumping his cane on the ground once before facing me, standing impossibly close. "I lied."

With that he leans in and kisses me. It's chaste, almost sweet, nothing particularly passionate about it at all.

He pulls away as quickly as he leaned in, studying me briefly before nodding firmly, turning back toward the hotel.

It takes a moment for me to register what's just happened. I come to my senses and follow Greg back into the hotel.

"What the hell was that?" I call after him just as he starts to cross the lobby.

He stops mid-stride, turning to face me. "What was what?"

"That." I wave my arm toward the entrance. "Out there. You can't just show up after twenty-five plus years, kiss me, and walk away without an explanation."

Greg frowns at me, crossing back to meet me. "I already told you. I lied. There was…something. I guess I just wanted to find out if it was still there. Judging by your reaction, it isn't." He shrugs, looking away and thumping his cane on the floor. "So I walked away. There's your explanation."

An odd sinking feeling comes over me. The timing is atrocious. Why couldn't he have come clean all those years ago? Better yet, why couldn't he have shown up a few months, a few years from now, when the pain of my loss might have lessened somewhat?

A guilty twinge goes through me at that last thought. The idea of moving on to someone else still pains me. No wonder Greg walked away.

As much as the idea of moving on scares me, the idea of not seeing Greg again scares me more. I'd at least like a chance to catch up with him, to see if the friendship part of things can be salvaged. If I let him go now, I'll never know.

I take a deep breath and hope for the best. "I know it looks like I'm rejecting you."

"It's not that big a deal."

"It is." I insist, reaching out to grab him just before he turns away. "I'm sorry. You just…caught me at a bad time. It's not your fault."

"Fine." He scowls at me, glancing down at my hand on his arm. "You can let go now."

"Sorry." I release him, but before he can limp away, I have to make one more attempt to reconnect with him. "It was good to see you. Really."

He rolls his eyes and starts to limp away, muttering something under his breath as he disappears through the front entrance. I'm quite sure it's nothing complimentary.

I wait until I'm reasonably sure he's long gone before making the same walk out the door myself. The night air is a welcome relief after the brief confrontation in the lobby, and I find myself taking several deep lungfuls.

Finally I walk back to my cabin, flicking on the light and shedding my Miami Vice wannabe costume in favor of an old road race t-shirt and a pair of flannel sleep pants. I'm no sooner settled into bed with a book than I hear a knock at my door.

I pull off my glasses and roll out of bed to answer. I'm certain that whoever is at the door just has the wrong cabin, probably a refugee from the 80s dance.

"Who is it?"

"The Prince Regent." A familiar voice rumbles in reply.

I can't help but laugh a little as I open the door. Greg has changed into a t-shirt and jeans. His body has changed a little with age, but still has that lean look to it, though he's not nearly as gangly as he was when he was a young man.

Who am I kidding? The man looks damn good. I feel like a dumpy old man in comparison.

"So what brings you back here?" I attempt to affect a light tone.

"My roomie's sawing logs in there." Greg answers as he brushes past me on his way in. "I can't hear the dialogue on my pay-per-view porn for all the noise."

I'm not sure if he's kidding or not, but I close the door behind me, suddenly grateful for the company. "Well, you're more than welcome to hang out here, I suppose." I fold my arms over my chest as I study him. "Although I'm surprised you want to after…you know."

Greg rolls his eyes and settles into a chair. "Figured we answered the mutual attraction question. Shouldn't be a problem for two old friends to hang out and shoot the breeze, right?"

"No, of course not." I can't believe how easily the lie slips out.

I mark my place in my book and set it on the bedside table next to my glasses and join Greg in the other chair. An awkward silence falls over us.

"So…" I venture. "You said you're consulting right now?"

"Sort of." Greg seems to squirm uncomfortably. "Like I said, a long story."

"We've got time."

He lets out a short sigh and shakes his head. "You don't really want to hear it. It's kind of a downer compared to your great love story."

"Oh, it wasn't all hearts and flowers, honey." I laugh a little. "In twenty-four years, we had our fair share of arguments."

"And yet you stayed together." Greg looks skeptical. "Why?"

I shrug. "We loved each other enough to work through our difficulties, and trusted each other enough to believe that the other wouldn't run when it got tough. In the long run, it paid off. After a few years, we settled down, bought a house, and became an old married couple."

"Until death did you part." Greg murmurs.

"Yes." I answer softly. "Until death did us part."

We're both silent for a moment until I realize that Greg managed to turn the conversation around to me, and he said nothing about himself. "So, back to your long story?" I prompt.

Greg slumps down a little in his chair, gesturing with his cane. "This is where it all starts."

He goes on to explain his infarction, the resulting muscle death, the missed diagnosis, and on to the Vicodin that was prescribed for short term use that turned into ten years of misuse and abuse. It's almost clinical, detached, as if it happened to someone else.

His fellow's death from a self-inflicted gunshot wound threw him into a tailspin, the beginning of the end, he calls it. "I wasn't sleeping, so I started taking sleeping pills. Mixing that with the Vicodin was stupid, I know that, but I was in so deep I had no idea how far gone I was. I started hallucinating, and went as far as deluding myself into thinking I had a wild night of hot sex with my boss after a miracle overnight detox."

"Greg." I'm stunned by his story. "My God."

"Yeah." Greg glances down at the floor, tapping his cane between his legs. "Of course, if you saw her you'd understand. She's pretty hot."

"I have seen her." I point out. "Jennifer Beals, remember?"

"I rest my case." He gestures expansively.

I laugh and shake my head. "So you obviously got clean."

"Right." Greg nods affirmatively. "Took eight weeks in a mental hospital to do it. According to the shrink, I had 'other issues'. Anyway, point is, I'm not practicing medicine right now. They tend to frown upon that whole practicing without a license thing. So I consult within the department I head up."

"You're not going to permanently lose your license, are you?"

"No. Just have a shitload of hoops to jump through." Greg glances up at me. "It sounds worse than it really is."

"I suppose you're right." I rise from the chair. "Do you want something to drink? I mean, are you allowed to have alcohol?"

"Of course I'm _allowed_." He snaps. "I'm still a grown-up."

I take a couple of beers from the six-pack in the mini fridge and hand one to Greg. Now that we've gotten over what seems to be the most awkward part of the evening, the conversation starts to flow fairly smoothly between us, and it's almost like old times.

By the time we've split the six-pack between us, I feel much more relaxed. Greg appears to feel the same way, sitting across from me with his legs splayed out in front of him, slumped slightly in the chair, a lazy smile on his face. I'm sorely tempted to close the distance between us, to wrap my arms around him and plant a kiss on that beautiful, timeworn face of his.

I shake off the idea. We're a pair of middle-aged men. Even if I were to initiate something, the chances of either one of us getting to the finish line is minimal at best. Besides, for all I know, there's a wife or girlfriend hiding somewhere, though he'd made no mention of one, and he doesn't wear a ring.

Instead I rise and stretch, cleaning up the beer bottles and tossing them in a nearby trash can. "I suppose I should kick you out. It's late."

"Guess you're right." Greg pushes himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he lumbers toward the door.

The question still lingers in my mind, and for some reason I must get an answer. "Greg, are you…seeing someone?"

He looks confused. "Why would you ask that?"

"I don't know." I shake my head, baffled at my own curiosity.

He stops in the middle of the room, turning to meet me in the middle of the room. "There was someone I thought I wanted, but I know better now. Who in their right mind would screw around with their boss?"

"Right." I laugh nervously.

"Then there was someone else." He tells me softly. "This guy I knew back in med school."

"Is that right?" I decide to follow Greg down this road. Alcohol has a way of making people express themselves in a way they wouldn't otherwise.

"That's right." He continues. "We had a pretty good thing going until I fucked it up. He ended up running off with someone else for the next twenty-five years."

"Tell me more." We've drifted closer, and we're nearly nose to nose. I could kiss him right now if I wanted to, and I definitely want to.

"I ran into him at this medical conference." Greg tells me. "Turns out he's a free man, except that he's still grieving his dead boyfriend. And wouldn't you know it, I'm fresh out of the loony bin after getting so high on Vicodin I deluded having sex with my boss."

"You two sound like quite a pair."

"We are. Or, we were." His arms slip around me, and his cane presses against my back.

I embrace him in return, his body equal parts soft and firm against mine, our lips mere millimeters apart, so close I can feel the warm breath puff out of his mouth. "Maybe we…I mean, you two can be that pair again."

"Only one way to find out." Greg closes the short distance between us, his lips pressing firmly against mine, his tongue grazing, pushing, seeking entrance.

I let him in. Of course I let him in. How could I possibly resist? I can't. Or I don't want to resist. I'm not entirely sure which it is.

His cane drops to the floor, and I nearly stumble over it as he pushes me back to the bed, our tongues fighting for dominance while we land on the mattress, hands finding their way under shirts, smoothing over rough hair and soft skin.

A voice scolds me in the back of my head. Kenneth is barely cold in the grave, and I'm making out in a hotel room with someone who barely qualifies as an ex. It's pathetic.

I break off the kiss and pull back, lying across the bed. Greg regards me with a puzzled look. "What the hell?"

"You should go." I tell him firmly, staring up at the ceiling.

"I don't fucking believe this." Greg grumbles, pushing himself off the bed.

"Sorry." I answer softly. "It just…doesn't feel right. Not yet."

Greg mutters something else and slams the door behind him. The room is deathly quiet now, and I feel Kenneth's loss more profoundly than ever.

As I turn out the light and slip under the covers, I can't help but wonder if I made the right decision. Which then leads me to wonder if it will ever feel right to be in another man's arms, and if perhaps I've missed an opportunity to find out.

I sigh heavily and close my eyes, willing sleep to come. One thing is for sure. That man will never be Gregory House. Maybe I won't send my CV to Princeton-Plainsboro after all. At least in Ann Arbor I'm almost guaranteed to never see Greg again. It's a small comfort, to be sure, but it's something. For now, I'll take it.

# # #

**You know what to do. Read and review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Just so you're fairly warned...we're heading into a fairly long stretch of non-House content. I promise it's all leadng somewhere, and I hope you'll be able to stick with it. :)**

# # #

_October 2009, Ann Arbor, Michigan_

My eyes drift open when the morning light streams into my bedroom. It was so late by the time I arrived home from the conference that I barely managed to change clothes and stumble into bed. Fortunately, I had the foresight to request a vacation day for today to make some attempt to rest and recover.

It's a lovely morning, if a bit chilly. If I were still a regular runner, I would have no qualms about suiting up and heading out for an easy three or four miles. As it is, it's been months since I've laced up a pair of running shoes. I'm not sure I could manage a mile anymore, let alone three or four.

I let out a heavy sigh and push myself out of bed, painfully aware of the silence that greets me as I make my way downstairs to start a pot of coffee. At this hour, Kenneth would have long since headed to work, and I would already be in my office starting my day. In theory, the quiet house shouldn't be a big deal.

Except that it is. There was no one to curl up to when I climbed into bed late last night, no one to wake me up this morning. It's just me and the coffeemaker, and quite frankly, the coffeemaker isn't the greatest conversationalist.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and pad into the living room to turn on the TV. Forty-five degrees and sunny, according to the local news, and the idea of a run starts to sound even more appealing.

I finish off my coffee and head upstairs to find my shoes. When I do find them, I'm a bit appalled at their condition. As tempting as it is to throw them on and run anyway, I know better. I can't get away with running in beat up shoes anymore. I'm too old and too out of shape for that. It appears a trip to the local running store is in order.

An hour later I'm in Running Fit, surrounded by at least ten boxes of running shoes, debating the merits of each pair. Kenneth was always alternately amused and exasperated by my obsession with finding the perfect shoe.

"Is there anything I can assist you with?" The clerk returns to check on me, flashing me a warm smile. Bless his heart, he seems to have unlimited patience with me.

I let out a long sigh. "I'm torn between the Asics and the Nikes."

He nods. "They're both great shoes. I'm an Asics man myself."

"I've been in Nikes almost since I started running." I tell him.

"Oh yeah?" He sits down on the stool, regarding me with great interest. "How long's that been?"

"Off and on since the early 80s. More off than on lately."

"Seriously?" The clerk's eyes widen. "You must have been really young when you started."

"Not that young." I laugh. "I was in college."

The clerk nods and starts to collecting the boxes of shoes that surround me. "Guys like you are a real inspiration, you know? I hope I'm still running when I'm your age."

I groan internally. I want to protest, to tell him that I'm not all that old. I don't turn fifty until December. Then again, he's probably at least half my age, if not younger.

I try on both pairs of shoes again, taking each pair out for a quick test run outside. I always feel a little silly trotting up and down the sidewalk outside the store, but for me it's the only way to tell if I'm taking the right shoe home. Heaven forbid I get stuck with the wrong shoe. It's something Kenneth never quite understood, no matter how much I tried to explain it.

When I return from my test run, the manager is standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, an amused expression on his face. "Make a decision yet?"

I can feel the heat rising to my face as he looks me up and down. He's not a bad looking man, tall and lean, with dark brown hair and eyes to match. I've dealt with him more than a few times over the years, but never given him so much as a second glance.

I stare down at my feet to avoid his gaze, glancing at the Nike on the left and the Asics on the right. "It's a tough decision." I mumble.

The manager laughs a little. "True. They're both excellent shoes."

I engage in a bit of internal debate before finally coming to a decision. "I think maybe I'll take them both."

The manager nods. "Sounds like a good plan. That way you can rotate them."

It's my turn to laugh a little, and I gesture to myself. "I definitely don't run enough to rotate anything."

"Hey, it's your money." The manager smiles and shrugs at me. "Justify it any way you want."

I smile a little in response. "How about…one pair for work, and the other for running."

"That could work, too." The manager steps aside slightly and gestures for me to enter ahead of him.

He follows me back to where I was trying on the shoes, and I change back into the beaten pair, placing both the new shoes in their respective boxes. I can't help but feel a little embarrassed at the other shoeboxes that are still sitting there.

The manager seems to understand as he greets the scene with a warm chuckle. "You're as bad about trying on shoes as I am."

"Well, I'd hate to take home the wrong ones." I feel my face heating up again.

"Indeed." He nods in agreement. "The wrong ones can make the shortest run a living hell."

He jerks his head toward the counter. "I'll start ringing these up for you."

I quickly follow him to the counter, where he scans in my purchases. He flashes me a quick smile. "Ready for the damage?"

"Never." I laugh.

He gives me the total, and I shake my head as I hand him my debit card. I can't remember the last time I spent so much on running shoes. Kenneth would have had my head if he'd known.

"Sign here Mister…sorry, _Doctor_ Morris." He hands me the receipt, and I sign it before handing it back to him. He gives me another warm smile as he completes the transaction and sticks my receipt in the bag and hands it off over the counter. "You know, we do group runs here on Mondays at six thirty and Thursdays at six fifteen. We always love seeing new faces."

"I'll keep that in mind." I tell him. "Maybe in a few weeks when I'm back in a little better shape. Wouldn't want to hold up anyone's progress."

"Oh, we have all paces." He explains to me. "No one gets left behind."

"Well…thank you…" I squint slightly at his name tag.

He looks a little baffled, then looks down with a laugh before looking up and extending a hand. "Sean."

"Julian." I blurt out, extending my hand in return.

He grasps it firmly, long fingers wrapping around my hand, and I can feel my heart rate speed up a little. "Very nice to meet you, Julian. I hope you'll join us on a group run. Maybe tonight?"

My face is on fire again. "We'll see." I mumble.

I quickly turn and leave the store, scolding myself for the feelings that rush through me. It's utterly illogical, I tell myself. He's too young and I'm far too vulnerable for anything to happen. Besides, with my luck, he's probably straight.

I decide that I'm definitely _not_ going on that group run tonight. I've always preferred to run alone anyway. It's better for me to find my groove again before I start thinking about joining a group. Yes, definitely. It has nothing to do with the possibility of running into Sean. Not at all.

# # #

I find myself back at Running Fit that evening, dressed in a long sleeved wicking shirt, a pair of shorts, and my new Nikes. The crowd isn't huge, but it's large enough that I could probably lose myself without too much difficulty. I tell myself that this is a far better alternative to spending another lonely night with the TV. After all, wasn't this the whole reason I had blown all that money on new running shoes? Why buy them if I wasn't going to use them?

"You made it!" Sean's cheerful voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

"Looks that way." I answer, glancing over at him. He's even better built than I thought, long, lightly muscular legs poking out of black shorts, topped with a gray t-shirt. "Aren't you cold?"

He flashes me a quick grin. "I won't be once we get going. Are you taking the three mile option tonight?"

"Probably my best bet." I nod in response. "It's been a few months since I've gotten out."

"Excellent. I'll be glad for the company. I did eighteen yesterday. Kind of feeling it today."

"I can well imagine." Of course he's a marathon runner. How could he not be? I feel like an absolute lump next to him. "I'll warn you, I'm going to be slow."

"Slow is good." Sean answers. "Gives us some time to chat."

I can't imagine what Sean could possibly want to chat with me about. I can't imagine what I could possibly have to say to him. Truthfully, I just want to get a halfway decent run in tonight. I don't have the heart to tell him that, however. Instead I simply nod. "Sounds good."

The group starts off, almost immediately breaking down into the natural cliques each group seems to develop, and eventually it's just me and Sean bringing up the rear.

"Told you I'd slow you down." I pant, attempting to find my pace.

"And I told you no one gets left behind." Sean counters, running so smoothly it's as if he's barely moving. "Besides, this is a perfectly good recovery pace for me."

We run on for a few minutes in silence before he breaks it again. "So I know you're a doctor. Tell me more."

"Head of orthopedics over at University Hospital." I manage to get out. "Been with them since I graduated med school."

"You went to school here, too?"

"Undergrad and med school."

Sean seems to ponder this before speaking again. "Obviously you like it here, or you wouldn't have stayed around so long."

I have to admit he's right. Over the course of my undergrad and med school years, I'd fallen in love with this town. Of course, the fact that Kenneth was here had a lot to do with it, too. He'd shown me parts of this town that I'd never taken the time to explore.

"Turnaround's here." Sean's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Another mile and a half and it's coffee time."

"Coffee time?"

"There's a little coffee place down the street from the store." He explains. "A lot of people from the group gather up there after the run."

Honestly, I'd almost rather go home, but I'm starting to enjoy the company. Maybe a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt. It's not as if there's anything or anyone waiting for me at home.

The thought hurts a little, but I try to push it aside in favor of concentrating on my run. Left, right, repeat. One foot in front of the other. Inhale, exhale.

It's not working. Bits of memories start to push themselves to the front of my mind, memories of cold Saturday morning runs when Kenneth would greet me with a hot mug of coffee and a kiss, always suitably impressed with the distance of my runs.

I'll never have that again, and the thought angers me. The horrible disease that quietly ate its way through Kenneth's body took that away from me, and nothing will ever bring him back.

I stumble over something and pitch forward, landing hard on my hands and knees, the scraped skin already stinging. Two hands quickly land on my shoulders, and I can feel my body shaking, emotions rushing through me too quickly to make sense of them.

"That was quite a tumble." Sean speaks calmly, a note of concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

I nearly lose it then. "_No_, I'm not okay. I'm too old for this. I never should have come out here." I take in a long gasp. "I should have left the shoes in the store."

Sean rubs at my shoulders in an attempt to comfort me, letting out a soft sigh. "Something tells me this is about more than a scraped knee." His hands brush across my shoulders as he rises to his feet. "We're just a few minutes from the store. We've got all kinds of first aid stuff there."

I want to protest, but I can't find my voice. Instead I simply nod and clamber to my feet, limping slightly.

Sean frowns at me, but doesn't say anything. We walk back to the store in silence, and he opens up the door to let us in.

I follow him to a back room, and he turns on the light. The back room is in fact a small office, a simple desk and chair crammed into the space.

"Have a seat." Sean gestures toward the chair, and I ease myself into it as Sean finds his first aid kit. I catch myself checking him out as he moves around, each leg muscle flexing in fluid motion.

A brief wave of guilt washes over me, almost as if I'm cheating on Kenneth. I have no right to check out anyone else, not when I still feel Kenneth's loss so acutely. Still, Sean _is_ nice to look at. I suppose looking never hurt anything.

Sean rises from the first aid kit and turns toward me, bending down in front of me to tend to my skinned knees and hands. His touch is feather light, oddly soothing, and I find myself relaxing with a sigh. "This is so silly. I'm fine, really."

"I don't mind." Sean glances up at me with a little smile. "Happens to me all the time."

"You?" I laugh. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it." Sean replies. "I have a knack for finding every crack in the sidewalk with my toe." He rises and points to his own knees. "See? Nothing but a mess of scars."

I fail to find any flaws, so I decide to take his word for it. "I suppose we'll be a matched pair, then."

He chuckles a little and offers his hand. "I think I still owe you a post-run coffee, if you're still interested."

I should go home. God, I should go home. And yet, there's something about this man that makes me take his hand and allow him to pull me out of the chair. Suddenly we're face to face, his warm brown eyes boring into me, and I can't say no.

"Fine." I tell him, cursing the way my voice shakes. "But I'm buying my own coffee."

Sean laughs then, fine lines crinkling around his eyes. "Dutch it is, then."

We walk down the street to the nearby coffee shop, joining the other runners that have shown up. I feel a sense of camaraderie I haven't felt in ages, and I now feel better about my decision to come here with Sean.

After getting our coffees, we find a booth and settle in, an awkward silence falling over us. At least, it's awkward on my end. Sean seems completely at ease.

"I hope this doesn't scare you completely off group runs." He opens casually. "I thought it was going pretty well."

"It was." I agree, staring down into my coffee cup. "I just got…caught up in my thoughts."

"Must have been some serious thoughts."

"Very." I reply quietly. I don't quite know how to come out and say I was thinking a little too hard about Kenneth. "I…lost someone very close to me recently."

Sean's brow wrinkles in concern. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

I laugh shortly. "It's not exactly a great conversation opener, is it?"

"No, I suppose not." Sean places his hand in the center of the table, close enough that I could reach out and take it if I wanted to. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." I realize how I sound. Snappish, closed off. I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee, feeling Sean's eyes on me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"It's not that big a deal." Sean answers, leaning back against the bench seat, and I can see where his hair has curled a bit on the ends from sweat. It is, for lack of a better word, cute. He smiles at me, making himself even cuter. "Seems you've had a rather rough night. I hope this doesn't scare you off from future group runs."

I smile back in response. "I might be better off running in a group if I'm going to keep tripping over myself."

He smiles even wider at that. "Hey, if you need any scrapes, bumps, or bruises fixed up, I'm your guy." He shrugs and takes a long drink of his own coffee. "And even if you don't…maybe I'm your guy."

Sean's words throw me. He can't possibly be flirting with me. I must be imagining things.

I lean across the table in an attempt to be somewhat discreet. "I'm not looking for anyone right now."

"Okay." He nods, leaning across to look me in the eye. I'm instantly hooked again. I can't seem to look away.

"I'm serious." I tell him firmly, wrapping my hands around my coffee cup.

"_Okay_." Sean responds with equal firmness, his eyes crinkling slightly in amusement.

I quickly down the rest of my coffee and shift to scoot out of the booth. "Right. Well…thanks for the run."

"Of course." Sean nods and rises to join me. I'm a little unnerved at the idea. Maybe I've gotten the wrong impression about him. Maybe he's a stalker.

My mind races through several possible endings for this current scenario as he follows me out of the coffee shop and down the street. I huff somewhat irritably. "You don't have to walk me to my car. I'm fairly certain I can find it on my own."

Sean stops almost immediately, tilting his head to look at me. "Too much?"

"A little." I take a deep breath while I fiddle with my car keys.

"Sorry." He answers quietly, letting out a short sigh. After a brief pause he speaks again. "Look, I'm not hitting on you, okay? Not that I wouldn't under normal circumstances, but…"

Something is wrong with this guy. Why on earth would he ever consider hitting on me? I'm well aware that time and the stress of the last few months have taken their toll on me. These days I'm on no one's hot list.

"Anyway." Sean shakes his head, resting his hands on his hips. "I was trying for friendly, not creepy. I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

I relax a little. Maybe I'm overreacting. "No, no. You're fine. Really." I fumble my keys and drop them to the sidewalk, where they land with a heavy rattle and clang.

Sean leans forward and picks them up in graceful fingers, stepping toward me and pressing them in my hand, wrapping his other hand to envelop mine.

"Thursday at six fifteen." He tells me just before he steps away. "And possibly Friday around eight."

"There's no group run on Friday." I tell him, baffled.

Sean smiles as he backs away. "No, but there might be dinner. As friends, of course. Think about it."

I'm so stunned I can't answer. I stand rooted to my spot on the sidewalk, watching Sean turn and stride away, grace and elegance personified in a t-shirt and running shorts.

Finally I chide myself for my behavior. If Sean wants to be friends, there's nothing wrong with that. There's no sense in reading more into it.

I find myself thinking about getting together with him after all. Just as friends, of course. I know that I'm nowhere near ready for anything more.

I smile a little to myself as I briefly toss my keys and catch them in my hand. Friends are good. Who couldn't use more of those? I know I certainly can.

# # #

**You know what to do here. Read and review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**And we're back over to this universe. We're mostly House-free for a few more chapters...how many I haven't completely decided yet. So yes, I do own everyone in this chapter with the exception of the brief mention of House and Cuddy. (And no, I don't mean like THAT. You all know me better than that, dear readers. :P)**

# # #

I'm busy putting the finishing touches on my spaghetti dinner on Wednesday night when I hear the knock at the door.

"It's open!" I yell across the space.

The door opens to reveal Eric and his partner Jordan. "Smells good, honey." Eric calls out, holding up a bottle of wine.

"I hope it tastes good." I answer with a small laugh. "My cooking skills have gotten a little rusty."

"We're just glad to see you getting out again." Jordan tells me firmly, enveloping me in a crushing hug. "We've missed you."

"I've missed you guys, too." I reply, returning the hug with almost equal force.

Eric opens up the bottle of wine and gestures to me for glasses. "Anyone else coming tonight?"

"Sherrie and Dave thought they might, if they could get a sitter." I answer. "Kevin and Michael for sure. They should be here in a few minutes."

No sooner do the words leave my mouth than the door opens, bringing in Kevin and Michael. "The party's here!" Kevin crows, all but dragging Michael by the hand.

I shake my head at Kevin's antics. How someone like that managed to snag someone as shy and quiet as Michael I'll never know. They seem happy, however, if the slight smile on Michael's face is any indication.

I drain the pasta and throw it into the pot to mix it up with the spaghetti sauce. Wednesday night spaghetti has been a tradition almost as long as Kenneth and I had been together. Sometimes we had as many as twenty people or as few as four, but it was always a welcome break in our week, a chance to catch up with each other and maintain our connections.

For now it's the six of us gathered around the table dishing up food and gossip. I've put this on hold for months, ever since Kenneth's condition started to take more and more of my time and attention. I would never have started it up again if Eric hadn't called, mock whining about how much he missed my spaghetti.

Jordan finishes the ridiculous story about his rehearsal with the local civic theater the night before. "The egos!" He huffs irritably. "You'd think they were all Broadway stars, the way they act. Of course, if they had any real talent, they'd be in New York, not Ann Arbor."

A murmur of agreement goes around the table before Jordan turns to me. "And how about you, Julian? How was that conference?"

"Good." I swallow a mouthful of garlic bread and continue. "Beautiful location, interesting speakers…"

I trail off, not wanting to think about my aborted encounter with Greg. Eric gives me a suspicious look. "Something you're not telling us, Jules?"

"Not much to tell." I shrug and take a sip of my wine. "I talked to the Dean of Medicine from Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Seems they might be looking for a new head of orthopedics sometime soon."

"Princeton?" Kevin jumps in. "Isn't that in New Jersey? Why the hell would you want to move there?"

Michael gives him a death glare, and I arch an eyebrow at Kevin. "She hasn't offered me a job. It was just a conversation."

"Honey." Jordan reaches across the table. "We know you're hurting, but that's no reason to leave the great state of Michigan."

"Indeed." Eric nods in agreement. "If you are going to leave, you could do better than New Jersey. At least get out of the cold."

A round of laughter goes around the table at that, and I merely shake my head. "Well, I don't think anyone has anything to worry about. I doubt I'll do anything about it."

"That's good." Kevin replies. "We've already lost Kenneth. We'd hate to lose you, too."

The table falls uncomfortably silent at Kevin's slightly tactless remark. I wave it off with a flick of my hand. "It's okay. Really. I think we all miss Kenneth."

"Some of us more than others." Jordan agrees, moving his wineglass to the center of the table. "To our friend, our lover, our partner. Wherever he is, may he be resting in peace."

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod as we clink our glasses together. A sadness comes over me, mixed with nostalgia.

After some throat clearing and wiping of eyes on everyone's parts, Kevin speaks up again. "I couldn't help but notice those new running shoes by the door, Julian. Please tell me you're putting them to good use."

"I'm trying." I answer with a chuckle. "Running Fit has a couple of group runs during the week. I went to my first one last night."

"That's good!" Kevin's face lights in a smile. "You always looked so hot when you were running regularly."

I feel myself blush at Kevin's remark. He's never been one to hold back on much of anything. "Well, I don't know about that, but I mostly enjoyed it…until I tripped and almost fell on my face."

The group makes sympathetic noises as I show the scrapes on my hands. Eric takes my hand and examines it closely. "Looks like someone took good care of that for you."

I jerk my hand away and return to my meal, my face growing warmer. Eric immediately picks up on my discomfort. "A…_special_ someone?"

"No, no one special." I snap. "It's a bit soon for that, don't you think?"

"Honey." Eric tells me firmly. "It doesn't have to be romantic for it to be special. Now spill it, otherwise you know Kevin's just going to torture you for the rest of the night."

"He's right, you know." Kevin speaks up cheerfully. "So tell us. Is he cute?"

I groan and put my face in my hands. There's no point holding back. My nonexistent love life has now become the focus of the table. Might as well tell the whole story.

"He's the manager at the running store." I start. "I bought my shoes there yesterday, he told me about the group runs, and we ran together last night. And yes, Kevin, he is absolutely adorable." I sigh and look down at my plate. "And I feel absolutely horrible for thinking so."

Jordan reaches across the table and takes my hand as Michael loops an arm around my shoulders. "Nobody expects you to jump right in with someone else." Jordan tells me. "You loved Kenneth to pieces. We all know that. But it's okay to get out there and meet people, too."

"And even admire them." Kevin adds. "I mean, you _are_ a man, right?"

"Right." I smile a little and dare to look up.

"Well there you go." Kevin replies triumphantly, as if he's made some great point. "So does this fine man have a name?"

"Sean." I answer. "He's…nice, I suppose. He invited me out for dinner on Friday. As friends, of course. I don't know if I want to go."

Kevin looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "Seriously? When was the last time you did anything aside from work? You'd damn well better go."

"Now, wait a minute." Eric interjects. "If Julian isn't entirely comfortable with the idea, maybe he shouldn't go." He turns to me. "Maybe you two could do lunch. Less pressure that way."

I huff irritably. "For crying out loud, it's not a date. I told him I wasn't looking for anyone. He's okay with that."

"Then there's no problem." Kevin tells me firmly. "Just go, have a nice time, maybe get laid."

"Kevin!" Eric and Jordan chorus as Michael shakes his head.

"What?" Kevin looks innocent. "There's nothing wrong with the whole friends with benefits thing."

"I don't think that's what Julian wants." Jordan tells him.

Michael squeezes my shoulder. "Here's a thought." He casually tosses out. "Why don't we just let Julian make up his own mind about this Sean fellow?"

"Thank you." I pat Michael's hand, and he nods before pulling back. "You all seem to forget that I'm an _adult_. I'm perfectly capable of managing...whatever this is."

"We're just looking out for you." Eric assures me.

"I know." I answer quietly. "And don't think for a moment that I don't appreciate it." I look around the table. "I really do love you guys. I wouldn't have made it this far without you."

"And we love you too." Kevin replies, reaching across Michael to squeeze my hand.

"Even if some of us are absolutely _terrible_ at showing it." Jordan gives Kevin a death glare, and Kevin responds by sticking out his tongue. The two of them bicker briefly before we settle back down to our meal.

The conversation flows a bit more freely after that, and we soon finish, taking dishes into the kitchen and cleaning up. It's always a noisy, chaotic affair, but I enjoy it. I realize that I've isolated myself for far too long, and I vow to not let myself do that again.

"Are you okay?" Michael nudges me as we wash dishes side by side. He's always been a quiet guy, much like me. Somehow during these gatherings we always find each other, an oasis of quiet among the chaos.

"I'm fine. Thank you." I assure him.

He looks thoughtful as he rinses and dries. "Kevin's not exactly the most tactful man I know."

"Oh, I know." I laugh. "I've known him longer than you have, remember?"

He smiles. "Yeah, I know. But maybe he has a point."

"About what?"

"About the whole…friends with benefits thing."

I dread what might come next. "You'll have to explain that."

Michael frowns before explaining. "I'm not saying you guys should have sex right away, but maybe it would be good for you to…see someone."

"You two are talking about two completely different things." I argue. "You're talking about dating. Kevin's talking about…something I'm not comfortable with."

"It's not the same as a one-night stand, Julian." Michael counters. "You'll get to know each other a little bit, maybe develop a little attraction. Maybe from there things get a little…more than friendly." He winks at me. "And let's face it, it probably wouldn't kill you to get a little something-something. Might do wonders for your ego."

I can't help laughing, flicking soap suds at Michael. "I do believe Kevin's rubbing off on you."

He shrugs and smiles at me. "No one says this guy has to be the next great love of your life. He can be a transitional guy. Nothing wrong with that."

"I'm sorry, but that just feels wrong." I shake my head. "Why see someone if you have no intention of having a relationship?"

Michael leans over and whispers in my ear. "How do you think Kevin and I started out?"

I never considered that. Prior to meeting Michael, Kevin was the very definition of a man-slut. Something shifted over the time they were together, and now you could barely pry Kevin from Michael's side. Michael was different, too, still quiet and shy, but less reserved than he used to be. It was good for both of them.

"Well, we'll see what happens." I tell him firmly, trying to convince him as much as I'm trying to convince myself.

"Either way it goes, it'll be okay." Michael tells me, drying off his hands and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "When the time's right, you'll know."

"Hey, are you two almost done?" Kevin comes in from the dining room, grabbing Michael around the waist and planting a noisy kiss on his neck. "I'm ready for some dessert."

"It's on the island." I tell him. "Go ahead and start plating."

"No, my dessert is right here." Kevin teases, nuzzling Michael affectionately. Michael merely smiles a little and rolls his eyes.

It hurts to watch the affectionate display between them. I feel more like a third wheel than ever.

Kevin seems to sense my mood, and he playfully wraps his arms around me and blows a raspberry on my neck. It's not the same, certainly, but it does keep me from diving too deeply into a funk.

"Go on with you." I laugh and elbow him. "Dish up the cheesecake."

I start a pot of coffee, and we gather in the living room to have dessert and coffee, falling into idle chat that lingers well into the night. Finally I kick everyone out, momentarily savoring the silence before finishing the dishes for the night and heading upstairs to bed.

Once in bed, it's a little too quiet, a little too empty. I wonder if there will ever be a time when this bed won't be so lonely. The idea of having another person here is almost more than I can bear to think about.

I finally close my eyes and start to drift off, half imagining long arms and legs wrapped around me. The faces keep changing, from Kenneth to Greg to Sean and back again. It's unsettling at best.

My eyes pop open involuntarily, and I already know I'm in for a long night. If this keeps up, I might just skip the group run tomorrow. I'll figure out what to do about dinner with Sean later.

# # #

**Back to you, dear readers. Read and review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**And on we go with our House-less section. So I suppose you could say I do own everything here, except for possibly a brief mention of House here. ;)**

# # #

It's significantly colder tonight than it was Monday night, and I find myself in front of the running store again, bouncing from one foot to the other in a futile attempt to stay warm.

This was a foolish idea, I know that now. Not only am I fuzzy from lack of sleep the night before, but it's been ages since my last cold weather run. I had forgotten how miserable they can be at the beginning. Besides, I don't see Sean anywhere around.

"There you are!" Sean's cheerful voice pipes up to my right. "How are your knees?"

"Better, thank you." I smile a little in response, ignoring the fluttering in my chest. I'm nearly fifty years old. I'm too old for a silly crush on a younger man. "Although it's a good thing I needed to wear long pants tonight."

Sean laughs, rubbing his gloved hands together. "It is a chilly one, isn't it? That coffee is going to taste extra good tonight."

We start our run in silence, Sean's steps light and quick compared to my own heavier, lumbering steps. Still, we settle into an easy rhythm, making occasional small talk as we go. Well, Sean makes most of the small talk while I try not to pass out from the exertion.

Just after the halfway point, I finally feel as if all my aging body parts are starting to work together. I haven't felt so relaxed in a long time, and I almost forget that Sean is still trotting easily next to me.

"We could go for another loop if you want." Sean offers, startling me out of my zone.

I shake my head. "No, I think I'd best quit while I'm ahead. Go on without me."

"Don't be silly." Sean smiles. "I already did five this morning. Three'll do it for me."

"Good Lord." I glance over in surprise. "Why come back for another round?"

Sean gives me a baffled look. "Isn't it obvious?"

I don't dare entertain the thought. "Other than being a glutton for punishment…"

"I wanted to run with you." Sean blurts out.

We stop just in front of the running store, and I lean over to rest my hands on my knees. "My God, why? Surely there are others you could run with who wouldn't slow you down."

"You don't get it, do you?" Sean answers, bending over himself so that his head is level with mine.

I shake my head, and Sean continues, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder. "You seem like this really sweet, kind hearted man. I like that about you. I just want to get to know you."

"You're making a mistake." I answer quietly, painfully aware of the growing warmth of his hand. "This isn't going to go anywhere."

"I'm not concerned about that right now." Sean replies.

I rise, letting his hand drift off my shoulder, suddenly missing the warm touch. "You will be before long. When you realize that you're just dealing with an old man and his issues, you'll move on, and rightfully so."

Sean surprises me by leaning forward and planting a brief kiss on my forehead. "Don't be so sure." He tells me softly. In a slightly different tone he says, "So, how about that coffee? I could use a warm up."

I nod, even as I'm still alternately startled and thrilled by his move. I swear the spot on my forehead burns, obvious to everyone who walks by. Strangely enough, no one notices as we make our way up to the counter and order our coffees before finding an open booth in the back corner.

Sean studies me with those soft eyes as he leans his chin against his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. My discomfort at such intense attention grows as I sip at my coffee.

Finally I huff irritably and set down my cup. "You're staring."

"I know." Sean sighs and shakes his head. "I don't mean to, really. I'm just trying to figure out why you seem to think your age makes you unattractive."

I shrug and shift slightly, wrapping my hands around my cup. "It's not just my age. I…kind of let myself go for a while. I'm well aware that I'm hardly the most attractive man out there."

"I disagree." Sean counters. "I find you very attractive."

"Oh, you are silly." I shake my head at the idea.

"Why?" Sean tilts his head. "Think about it. Sean Connery, Patrick Stewart, Mark Harmon, Hugh Laurie. All those men have something in common."

I laugh. "Yes, they're all older than dirt."

Sean leans in, a mischievous expression on his face. "And they're all still hot as hell."

"Oh, my goodness." I can't help but laugh at that. "Surely you're not putting me in the same category as them."

"I am." Sean tells me firmly.

"Then you aren't just silly." I answer. "You're crazy."

Sean tilts his head at me. "Do you honestly believe you're that unattractive?"

I'm not sure what to say to that. I glance down and fiddle with my coffee cup. "I honestly don't know what to think. It's been a very long time since I've been on the market." I take a deep breath. "I suppose I don't _feel_ attractive right now. It's been a rough last few months."

For some unknown reason, I start telling the story of Kenneth's last months of life, the pain of his loss spilling out of me, and I'm aware of his hand reaching across the table to cover mine, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my hand. It's comforting and a little thrilling at the same time, and I force myself to check any thoughts of disloyalty to Kenneth's memory.

We sit in silence after I've spilled my guts, his hands clasping mine softly across the table, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I was right. You're everything I thought you were and more."

I laugh a little, absentmindedly playing with his hands. "Don't nominate me for sainthood just yet. There were more than a few times when I wished he would just die already and get it over with."

"I'm sure." Sean nods. "But you stuck with him until the end. That's what really matters. A lesser man wouldn't have."

I shake my head. "I'm not so sure about that. But at any rate, surely now you understand why this won't go anywhere."

Sean lets out a little sigh, still caressing my hands. "And we're back to that, are we?"

"It's only logical." I argue. "Surely you want _something_ out of this."

Sean leans in a little closer, his voice dropping. "Let me tell you something. If all I wanted was to get laid, I'd be anywhere but here."

"And you will want that, eventually." I tell him, still resisting. "I don't think I'll be able to give that to you."

He squeezes my hands. "Why don't we cross that bridge if we get to it, okay? You won't get any pressure from me."

If only I could believe that might be true. I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around the idea that this beautiful young man could ever want anything to do with me.

I don't tell him any of this, of course. Instead I simply nod, tired of arguing. "Sure."

Sean smiles gently at me. "I know you don't believe me, but that's okay. We'll just play it by ear and see what happens."

I nod and smile a little, shifting to leave my seat. "And on that note, I should go."

"Right." Sean nods in response, leaving his seat as well. "Me, too. I've got to get up early if I'm going to squeeze in a few miles before work."

We leave the coffee shop, and Sean follows me back to my car, watching as I fumble with my keys in search of the right one. I gesture triumphantly when I find it, and he lets out a little laugh.

"So, are we on for dinner tomorrow?" He asks innocently.

I debate briefly with myself before nodding. "I believe so."

"Excellent." His face lights in a broad smile. "I even have tickets for a show at The Ark. Perhaps we could do that first, then have a late dinner, if that's okay with you."

"I don't see why not." The words fall out before I can stop them.

"Good." He nods. "Would you like to drive, or shall I?"

"We could meet at The Ark." I offer.

"Even better." He leans in, bracing himself against my car on either side of my shoulders, and even though I know damn well what he has in mind, my heart still beats hard and fast in my chest. Whether it's from panic or excitement, I can't quite tell.

Sean's lips touch mine before I have too much time to analyze things, and I almost instinctively reach up to curl my hand around the back of his neck, where his hair has curled softly from sweat. The kiss deepens, and I feel Sean's tongue slip into my mouth, but I can't find a reason to object.

He pulls away slowly, a sheepish expression on his face, and his hand rests lightly against my cheek. "Sorry about that. I have terrible impulse control."

"Don't you dare apologize." I tell him firmly, my hand still wrapped around his neck, my thumb stroking his jaw.

A slow smile curves over his face, and he leans in for one more quick kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late."

He leaves then, making his way across the parking lot to his own vehicle. I lean against my car, warm inside despite the chilly night, and I can't help the silly smile I know is plastered across my face.

I snap myself out of my reverie and climb into my car for the short drive home, letting myself into the quiet house and making my way upstairs for a quick shower before going to bed.

As I close my eyes, my mind keeps replaying the kiss, and I can't help but feel a tiny bit disloyal. I sigh, a little pang of sadness going through me.

"He kissed me, honey." I tell the darkness. "He kissed me, and I liked it. I might have even kissed him back a little."

Silence is the only reply, and I turn over and curl myself under the blankets, reaching out to rub the spot where Kenneth used to lie. "He's definitely not you. No one ever will be."

My last thought remains unspoken. No, Sean will never compare to Kenneth. No one ever could. But maybe, just maybe, in time, something could develop. Perhaps it's time for me to find out.

# # #

The next evening finds me staring into my closet in search of something decent to wear that doesn't resemble my work clothes. Nothing seems to be working, and out of desperation, I've called in Jordan to help.

"What about this?" He pulls out a dark blue shirt. "It's a beautiful color for you."

Something stabs at me at the sight, and I let out a sigh. "It's not mine."

"Oh." Jordan looks uncomfortable for a moment before pulling himself together, holding the shirt out to me. "Try it on anyway."

I glare at him and snatch the shirt out of his hands. "I'll have you know, this is more than a little creepy."

"It's just a shirt, Julian." Jordan snaps. "Quit being such a drama queen."

I pull it on, half convinced that it's not going to fit anyway as I start to button it and tuck it into my pants.

"No, no, sweetie." Jordan fusses. "Leave it untucked. And for crying out loud, get out of those dress pants. You're not going to a formal event. Don't you own a nice pair of dark wash jeans?"

I have never been a fashion plate, even when I was younger. I manage to pull it together enough for work, but for anything else, I'm at a loss. I start searching through drawers, coming up with a pair of jeans I can't remember seeing before. "You mean like these?"

Jordan sighs and rolls his eyes. "You, my dear, are long overdue for a shopping trip." Finally he nods. "Yes, they'll do, if you don't mind looking like an old man."

"I _am_ an old man." I remind him.

"That doesn't mean you have to dress like one." Jordan scolds me.

He fusses with my collar and my shirttails, backing away and sizing me up, finally nodding firmly. "You'll do for tonight. But we are _definitely_ going shopping before your next date with this man."

"It's not a date." I protest. "We're just going out as friends."

"Mm-hm." Jordan responds skeptically. "And if you keep dressing like that, that's all you're ever going to be."

I huff irritably and fold my arms over my chest, and Jordan lets out a sigh before wrapping his arms around me. "Look, I know you're not used to this. The fact that you're going out with someone at all is a big step. Just relax and have fun, okay?"

I unfold my arms and hug him in return. "I'll try. And thank you for helping me out. I know you mean well."

"Of course." Jordan answers. "But we're still going shopping. Don't think you're getting out of that so easily."

I can't help laughing. "Fine. You can take me shopping. But right now I've got to go. I'll be late."

Jordan smiles widely. "Yes, late for your _date_."

"Right." I wave my hand almost dismissively as we head down the stairs and out of the house, separating at our cars.

"Call me and tell me how it went." He calls out. "If you make it home, that is."

"Good bye, Jordan." I call back, climbing into my car for the drive to The Ark, shaking my head. Clearly Jordan is thinking too far ahead. There's no way this night will end in any sort of romp. I know I'm nowhere near ready for that.

I find a parking place and start toward The Ark. Sean is waiting out front, dressed in a leather jacket over a dark shirt and dark jeans. He does look incredible, and I suddenly feel a bit out of my element.

He smiles when he spots me, greeting me with a touch on the shoulder and a quick kiss on the cheek. His scent, something subtle and a little spicy, washes over me, and I have to take a quick breath to calm myself. This isn't a date, I have to remind myself. Never mind that his kiss is still on my mind, his slightly rough lips, his soft tongue. We merely agreed to go out as friends, nothing more.

The music's good, and I find myself relaxing into my seat, barely noticing that Sean's hand has found its way onto my knee, stroking lightly with his thumb. I glance over at him briefly, and he flashes me a quick smile in the darkened theater. Friends indeed. He's being more than a little friendly right now, and I can't find any reason to object. That surprises me.

As the concert progresses, I find myself absentmindedly covering Sean's hand with my own, oddly fascinated by the prominent knuckles and the long, bony fingers. I check the thought that flashes through my mind of what those fingers could do, quickly shifting and releasing his hand.

I can feel Sean's hand brush my knee as he pulls away, and I'm oddly disappointed at the loss of contact. Not enough to reach out myself, certainly. I don't want to send any more mixed messages.

The concert ends and the lights go up in the theater. I make my way out, Sean not far behind me as we join the crowd spilling out into the lobby and outside. His hand lands on my shoulder as the cool night air hits me, sending a little shiver through me.

"So, dinner?" He asks cheerfully. "There's a brewpub nearby that I've heard has some decent food."

"That sounds good." I nod, and he leads us down the street and around the corner to said brewpub. Being Friday night, it's crowded and noisy, and I find myself oddly disappointed. The environment is hardly conducive to good conversation.

The hostess seats us, and we each peruse the menu. It's a simple menu, but I still find myself debating over what I want. Now that I'm back into running, it only makes sense to attempt to rein in my eating habits as well.

"So I'm thinking we could split a plate of nachos to start." Sean throws out casually. "Seems like the perfect thing to go with a beer."

I let out a short laugh. "And here I was trying to watch my girlish figure."

Sean's eyes crinkle up as he laughs a little in response. "Throw caution to the wind, Julian. It's Friday night. Get back on the wagon tomorrow."

"Easy for you to say." I counter. "You're the one piling on the miles right now. I'm barely getting started."

Sean's eyes meet mine over the menu, a serious expression suddenly taking over his face. "You'll get there again. I'm sure of it. And even if you don't…" He shrugs. "Who cares? It's just food. And damn good food at that. Might as well enjoy it."

He spouts a philosophy I can get behind, certainly. The waitress shows up to take our order, and Sean places our order for the blackened chicken nachos in addition to a beer for each of us.

We spend the next few minutes perusing the dinner menu and falling into casual conversation, and I finally find myself relaxing somewhat. Somehow I think it has very little to do with the beer and everything to do with Sean's exceedingly pleasant company.

As the evening wears on, we relax even more around each other, and I find my already strong attraction to this man growing. My determination to remain just friends with him is starting to crumble. Based on the kiss from the other night, I suspect Sean feels the same way.

The waitress brings over the check, and both of us go for our wallets. I can't help letting out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"I'll cover it." I tell Sean.

He looks amused as he slowly slides his wallet back in his pocket. "This doesn't mean I have to put out, does it?"

"Of course not." I laugh a little in response. "I wouldn't do that to a friend."

"Good to know." Sean's smile fades just a little, and I wonder if I've said something wrong. No matter, I decide. We started this evening as friends, and friends we'll remain.

With the bill taken care of, we fall into step with each other leaving the brewpub, making our way back the way we came.

"So…" Sean ventures. "Where are you parked?"

I gesture toward the parking garage. "Over that way. It's not far."

"I'll walk with you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

It's a quiet walk back to the parking garage, almost as if we've managed to run out of subjects to talk about. Heaven knows we covered enough of them in the brewpub. I can't help feeling a little edgy as we approach my car, my thoughts jumbling up as I fumble with my keys.

Sean's hand lands gently between my shoulder blades and starts smoothing down my back as I hit the button on my key fob, startling me slightly. I turn to face him, my heart already pounding in my chest at the thought of what might happen next.

"Not a word." He tells me firmly, capturing my lips and curling a hand around my neck before I can react.

I could tell myself I don't want this. I could push him away, remind him that we're just friends.

But I would be lying to myself. This fine young man's tongue is sliding around in my mouth, his large hand warm around my neck, and I can't find it in me to resist him anymore.

One hand still clutches my keys while the other slides along his cheek, the roughness of his light stubble scraping against my palm on its way into his soft hair. I can hear him sigh a little into my mouth as he draws in closer, pressing my body up against my car.

I press back almost instinctively, slipping my tongue into Sean's mouth to tangle with his, and I find myself wondering why I resisted this in the first place. His attention feels good, even if it's only for a little while.

The thought fills me with sadness, the idea that I'll go home alone after this. But part of me still insists that it's necessary, that it's just short of insane to pursue things further.

I break off the kiss with every intention of turning around, climbing into my car, and getting out of here as fast as I possibly can. "I should go." I blurt out.

"Are you sure?" Sean suddenly sounds tentative, unsure.

"No." I let out a short sigh, letting my hand drop, staring down at the keys in my hand. "I'm not sure of anything right now."

"And I'm not helping." Sean tells me, his thumb stroking my jaw almost absently.

"Not a bit." I laugh shortly.

Sean smiles at that, pulling back slightly, never breaking contact. "I'll let you go, if that's what you want. But…if you want…more…" He leans in and kisses me lightly. "…I'd be _totally_ okay with that."

I do burst out laughing at that, covering my face with my hand. Shortly I sigh and look up at him, shaking my head. "I'm too old for this. What is _wrong_ with me?"

Sean arches an eyebrow, appraising me with an amused expression. "Not a damn thing, as far as I can tell."

"Oh, you are out of your mind." I chide him, reaching up to brush at a few hairs that have fallen in his face.

"Maybe." He shrugs casually, tilting his head at me. "So, my place, your place, or none of the above?"

It should be an easy decision, really. For most people it wouldn't even be a question, I know that. But for me, it feels as if there's so much at stake, so much to lose, so much to leave behind.

I close my eyes and nod firmly. "Your place."

A wide smile creeps across Sean's face as he takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard, his tongue sliding in again briefly before he pulls away.

"You won't regret this." He tells me. "I promise."

It feels like a bigger promise than he has any right to make, and I'm already questioning my decision as I hand him my phone so he can type in his address.

He gives me a quick look as he hands it back to me. "Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"If, for some odd reason, you flip out on the way and decide not to come, call me, okay?" Sean suddenly looks a little concerned. "I won't be mad. No matter what, we're friends first. Everything else comes second."

"I'll show." I tell him firmly. "I can't promise anything else beyond that."

"Good enough." He smiles and brushes one more kiss to my lips. "I'll see you in a few, then."

I smile a little to myself as he strides away, the excitement and nerves bubbling up in me. I'm still doubtful that I'll follow through on anything, but it's a step in the right direction. For now, that's good enough.

# # #

**You know what to do. Read and review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**It's been ages on this one, too. We're still in a non-House part of the story, but I promise eventually it's going somewhere. Enjoy.**

# # #

My heart is pounding in my chest as I pull up to the address Sean has given me. It's a rambling old apartment house, similar to one I lived in as a student, and it brings back a flood of memories.

I push them all aside and climb out of my car, taking a deep breath as I make my way to the house, ringing the bell next to his apartment number. As I wait, the neighborhood rings out with sounds of students enjoying their night, and I suddenly feel even older than my years.

This was foolish, I can see that now. I don't belong here. I should be on my way home to my quiet house in my own quiet neighborhood, possibly catching up on the reading that I never seem to get to.

I hear someone running down the steps, and the door swings open, revealing Sean. His face lights in a smile when he sees me.

"Hey." He greets me casually. "Come on up."

I follow him up two flights of stairs to his apartment, feeling more and more out of my element with each step. If I weren't already near the top of the stairs, I would have turned around and bolted.

He opens his apartment door, and I'm pleasantly surprised at the relatively uncluttered space. I nearly trip over a pile of running shoes left by the door, and Sean blushes a little.

"Sorry." He mutters as he kicks them aside. "I tried to clean up a little before you got here. Obviously I missed a few things."

"It's okay." I assure him, oddly relieved that he seems almost as nervous as I feel.

Sean gestures toward a coat rack hanging on the wall next to the door, and I hang up my coat, unbuttoning my shirt cuffs and rolling them up to my elbows. My nerves are finally starting to abate somewhat when Sean approaches me.

His long fingers intertwine with mine as he leans in to capture my lips in a quick kiss. The nerves are instantly back, my mind scrambling, still unsure about my decision to come here tonight.

A concerned expression flashes across Sean's face as he pulls back. "Are you okay?"

I nod firmly. "Mostly."

He releases my hands to place them at my waist, and the same sense of apprehension I felt with Greg barely a week before washes over me. Little has changed since then, and yet everything has changed. I can't explain it, but I'm not sure I want to waste my time analyzing things right now.

His lips find mine again, and his hands start sliding under my shirt, smooth and warm against my skin. My apprehension continues building, but that doesn't stop me from reciprocating.

I can feel the contours of his stomach and what feels like a light dusting of hair, and he lets out an appreciative hum, pressing into my hands as I slide them to his back and start moving upwards.

Sean breaks off the kiss then, jerking his head behind him with a questioning expression. "You want to…?"

"Yes." I answer quickly, before my doubts can creep in and take over.

I follow him into his bedroom, and he sits on the end of the bed, pulling me toward him by my hips. He looks up at me with a little smile as he starts unbuttoning my shirt.

I can't help the tiny sense of dread as he continues upward. There's no way Sean's going to like what he sees. I reach out and run my hand through his hair as a means to distract myself. It's so soft in my fingers, and I just keep stroking it as he finishes unbuttoning my shirt.

His hands suddenly smooth over my stomach, and he leans forward to kiss it lightly before starting on my belt. To say I'm startled at the move is a bit of an understatement.

"Sean?" My voice comes out ragged.

"Shut up." He answers with equal roughness, undoing my belt and starting in on my jeans. Before I know it, my jeans and boxers are somewhere around my ankles, and Sean's lips and hands are everywhere.

They suddenly zero in on my slowly hardening flesh, and my brain short circuits. His tongue is working in slow circles around the head, his fingers stroking me, teasing me into full arousal.

"Oh…" I stutter, clutching the back of his head with one hand and grabbing his shoulder with the other to steady myself. It's been months since anyone has touched me like this, and my mind can't help drawing up old memories, despite my attempts to push them aside.

Those memories overwhelm me, and I immediately go soft in his mouth. Sean pulls back with a puzzled expression. "Something wrong?"

"It's not you." I assure him, not sure how to explain to him what's going through my mind. I sigh heavily, my hand still on his shoulder. "God, this is awkward."

Sean rises from the bed, and I step back a little to accommodate him. "I suppose it would be."

Without another word he starts unbuttoning his own shirt, slipping out of it and tossing it aside before starting in on his jeans. While he seems to have misunderstood the reasons for my awkwardness, I can't say I'm disappointed in what I see.

On impulse I reach out and run a hand up his stomach to his chest. He's nearly smooth, just a smattering of dark brown hair covering his chest and stomach, and he's as lean and strong as I'd imagined he would be. Not that I'd had those sorts of thoughts about him.

"You're beautiful." I blurt out.

Sean smiles and tilts his head at me. "You think so?"

"Yes." I'm a bit embarrassed by my sudden outburst, scolding myself for my lack of self-control. Of course, if I'd had an ounce of self-control, I wouldn't be here now, half naked in the bedroom of a man I barely know.

"You're not so bad yourself." He tells me after he's discarded his own jeans and underwear, his hand coming to rest on my lower back as he presses his body into mine.

I laugh a little and look away, shaking my head. Sean far outclasses me physically, I'm well aware of that. The man could model for Runner's World.

I hear him laugh in response, and he takes my chin in his hand, turning my face back toward his before dropping a kiss on my lips. "See, that's what I mean. That 'look-away-and-smile' thing? Very Mark Harmon." He kisses me on the jaw, near my ear. "_Very_ sexy." He murmurs.

"You have a very strange fetish, my friend." I attempt a light tone, even as his hands and lips wander over me, causing my dormant flesh to react anew.

"Not so strange." Sean answers almost sharply as he pushes my shirt off my shoulders. His own hard flesh pressed against mine seems to prove his point, although I still have trouble buying the comparison to Mark Harmon.

I start to argue the point, and he silences me with his mouth, his tongue slipping easily into my mouth as he wraps his arms around me, his hands drifting to my rear and grabbing roughly, grinding insistently into me.

I groan involuntarily, a few random thoughts still rattling around in my mind, none of them enough to eclipse what is happening right now. My hands immediately go to his back, the muscle flexing under his smooth skin as he grinds against me.

Just as I entertain thoughts of him doing the same thing inside me, I unload, almost crying out from the sensation. It seems to go on forever, and I'm simply riding it out, clutching Sean to me, my knees nearly giving out under me when I finally come back from wherever I've been.

"Easy, easy." Sean laughs a little as he keeps a strong hold on me. "I've got you."

I let out a shaky sigh and rest my forehead on his shoulder. "God, sorry. It's been…too long."

Sean chuckles and kisses my temple. "There's nothing to apologize for. You got off, and it was hot as hell."

"Oh my God." I murmur into his shoulder. "You are so silly."

Sean pulls back a little, glancing down at the floor. "You want to finish getting undressed?"

My jeans are still pooled around my ankles. Matter of fact, I still have my shoes on. I feel my face heat up. "I suppose I should."

"Lay back." Sean tells me. "I started this. I'm damn sure going to finish it."

His boldness alternately thrills me and startles me, and I shift so that I'm sitting on the bed. Sean bends down to take off my shoes before sliding my jeans and boxers the rest of the way off my legs. Before I can protest, he kneels between my legs, spreading out his fingers over my inner thighs, and I realize what he's doing.

"Oh…my…" I watch as he cleans me up with his tongue, his eyes meeting mine as he cleans up the last few drops on my stomach. Soon he takes me into his mouth, and I'm surprised to find myself slowly becoming aroused again.

He lets me out of his mouth, his tongue working its way further down until I feel his hands pushing my legs up, and before I can react, his tongue traces around my hole. I nearly jump at the sensation, letting out a sharp gasp in response.

"Too much?" Sean murmurs.

"God, no." I manage to answer.

He laughs a little and continues his ministrations, gently working at me with his tongue before adding a finger into the mix. His plan for me is obvious, and I can't find any reason to object. Any inhibitions I might have had seem to be cast away now.

He replaces his tongue with another finger, stretching me further, kissing me along the inside of my thigh. All too soon he pulls out, resting a hand on my thigh. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

As if I could go anywhere right now. Sean has me so turned on I can barely think, let alone move. Part of me is scared at the idea, and the guilty thoughts start creeping in again.

"Changing your mind?" Sean's voice breaks into my thoughts.

I lift my head enough to see him at the foot of the bed, the light from the other room silhouetting his long, lean form. He's so beautiful I almost can't stand it.

"No." I shake my head, shaking off the thoughts that still whisper in my head.

"Good." He sounds relieved, and I can hear him pop a cap in the darkness. It isn't long before his long, slippery fingers work their way in, stretching and probing, and it reminds me just how long it's really been.

I let out a little moan as he withdraws, and I can hear the sound of a foil packet crinkling and ripping as Sean covers himself. Soon I feel his tip probing, slowly pushing in, and I can't help tensing just a little.

"Am I hurting you?" Sean's concerned voice comes out as a hushed whisper.

"No, no." I assure him. "It's just…you know."

"…been a while." He finishes the sentence for me with a soft laugh, grasping my hips with his large hands and sliding the rest of the way in.

"Exactly." I respond with a rush, half gasping as I feel him begin to move inside me. The voices in the back of my head still scold me, and I know that on some level, there's something wrong with this whole scenario. But as Sean leans over me and kisses me deeply while keeping up his slow, easy thrusts, I'm hard pressed to figure out exactly what's so wrong with this.

"You feel so good." He murmurs between kisses, thrusting harder, and I can only answer with a series of moans and groans as he hits the mark over and over, bringing me ever closer to the edge.

He finishes first with a hard groan, keeping himself buried deep inside me while he rides it out. While still inside and semi-hard, he takes hold of me and strokes. I'm so far gone that it takes me mere moments to go over, shooting sticky warmth all over his hand.

He pulls out and licks me clean again, making sure I see him licking my release off his hand. It's not something I would openly admit, but there is something extraordinarily sexy about it.

Soon he's lying next to me, his arm draped across my chest, and my brain finally starts to feel as if it's returned to my body. All the doubts and guilt that I had managed to push away during the act come rushing back to me, and the urge to bolt is strong.

Sean's fingers trail down my chest as my thoughts darken. "You're welcome to stay the night, you know."

I sigh, debating with myself. I should go home, but the thought of going to sleep alone in an empty house saddens me even more than the idea of staying here.

"Julian?" Sean's voice is questioning, concerned.

I turn over to face him, cupping his face with one hand. "I'm never going to fall in love with you."

Sean looks baffled. "What does that have to do with whether you stay the night or not?"

"I don't know." I snap, cursing myself for saying anything. "I just…feel like it needs to be said."

Sean moves in closer, his arm snaking around my body, his hand coming to rest on my back. "Don't worry. We're still friends until something changes."

Now it's my turn to be baffled. "Nothing's changed?"

"Not a thing." Sean assures me. "I like you just as much now as I did before I got into your pants."

I can't help but laugh at him. "Oh, well, in that case…"

A hopeful expression crosses Sean's face. "You'll stay?"

I lean in to give him a quick kiss. "I'll stay."

"Good." He seems to let out a sigh of relief.

We shift around, getting under the blankets and finding a comfortable sleeping position. Somehow this involves me on my side, with Sean tucked in close behind me, his arm around my waist.

It's not love, and it probably never will be. But it's comforting to have Sean wrapped around me in the night, his breathing soft and steady against my neck. If nothing else, it helps me feel a lot less lonely. That alone is worth a good deal, and it seems to chase away most of my guilty thoughts as I fall asleep.

# # #

I awaken the next morning to rain pounding on the window and a strong sense of disorientation. I'm alone, of course, but it takes me a few minutes to realize that I'm naked in someone else's bed.

No sooner do I sit bolt upright than things start coming back to me. It all starts to make sense now, more or less. The only real mystery is why I'm still here while Sean is not.

I throw off the covers and find my jeans in the crumpled pile of clothing at the end of the bed, digging through the pocket for my cell phone. A check of the time reveals what I suspected. It's nearly ten o' clock, far later than I would normally sleep in.

A bit of panic starts bubbling up, and the voice in the back of my head tells me that I should get out now before Sean returns from wherever he went. I'd rather not face any morning after awkwardness if I can at all help it.

Decision made, I start sifting through the pile, finding all my clothes, cringing slightly at the idea of going home in my current condition. There's nothing I can do about it at the moment. I'll simply make a shower my first priority when I get home. A nice, long, hot shower.

I get myself put back together as best I can and make my way to the living room. Just as I enter, the door swings open, and Sean enters, dressed in a long sleeved tech shirt and a pair of black shorts. He shakes his head and wipes off his face with his hand, clearly pleased with himself.

"Eight miles." He explains to me with a wide smile. "Started pouring about halfway through. I've never covered that much ground so fast in my life." He throws me a puzzled look. "Not taking off, are you?"

"I…" I gesture lamely, something fluttering in my chest at the sight of those long legs, that heaving chest, and that wet, wild hair. "…I should. I've got…things to do."

"Okay." His tone is light, though I think I detect a note of disappointment. He crosses the room, leaning in to give me a light, but lingering kiss. "If you get free, call me. I'd love to hang out." A teasing smile lights his face as he kisses me again, a little deeper this time.

I can't help it. I melt. It's ridiculous, I realize that. And if I don't get out of here in a hurry, I might not make it home today.

I break away with a little sigh, letting my hand drift along his slightly rough cheek. "I'll see what I can do."

"I hope so." Sean answers, looking me up and down.

I nod firmly, though I feel my resolve weakening, and grab my coat on the way out, trotting down the two flights of stairs and out to my car. The rain hasn't let up, and I imagine Sean out there, running through the rain, soaking his shirt, soaking his shorts. I imagine he's heading into the shower right now, letting the warm water wash over him…

I check the thought immediately. Things have already gone further than they should have. Letting my imagination get the better of me isn't going to help matters.

As soon as I climb into the car, I pull out my phone and call Jordan. He picks up on the second ring.

"You're calling from your cell." He greets me. "Can I safely assume things went as planned last night?"

I huff irritably. "I happened to be in the car and decided to call you. No need to draw any conclusions."

He laughs heartily as if he's already drawn his conclusions. "You can tell me some other time. To what do I owe the honor of this call?"

"Well, I just wanted to know if that shopping offer was still open."

"Of course, honey." I can hear the delight in Jordan's voice. "Pick a time."

We make arrangements to meet at my house in a couple hours, and I end the call, setting the phone on the dashboard and driving home.

By the time I've made it home, showered and had a cup or two of coffee, it isn't long before I hear someone ringing the doorbell. It's Jordan, an expression of anticipation on his face.

"So." He rubs his hands together gleefully. "Are you ready for your makeover, dear?"

I laugh and grab my coat. "Clinton Kelly you're not."

"Of course not." Jordan answers sharply. "I'm far better looking."

He directs me downtown, where I find a parking garage, and we set out on our journey, stopping first for lunch when my stomach starts growling. Jordan is insistent that no one should shop on an empty stomach.

Over sandwiches at Zingerman's, Jordan gets down to business, laying out what he considers casual wardrobe essentials, of which he points out that I have none. He's got a point. I got so comfortable with Kenneth that I never bothered putting together much of a wardrobe, and as he slid further downhill, I quit bothering with much of anything that didn't have to do with taking care of Kenneth.

"It's time you took care of yourself, honey." He points out. "Speaking of…how _did_ things go with your friend last night?"

I debate giving him too many details, soon shrugging casually. "It was…good. We had a good time."

Jordan's eyes crinkle in amusement, and I know I've somehow given myself away. He waves a fork in a scolding manner. "There's a whole lot you're not telling me, Julian."

"And that's the way it's going to stay, Jordan." I tell him firmly.

It's silent for a moment before Jordan's fork clatters to his plate. I look up to see him staring at me, his eyes round, his hand covering his mouth.

"You…" He leans forward across the table. "You did, didn't you?"

I groan internally and move to cover my eyes. "Jordan, please. I already feel guilty enough."

"Good Lord, _why_?" Jordan huffs in exasperation. "It's been months, honey. _Months_. If it were me, well, I would have blown up by now."

"Well, excuse me for not turning into a wanton slut the minute Kenneth's body was in the grave." I snap.

Jordan sighs heavily and leans back in his chair. "That's not what I mean and you know it. I only mean that you have no reason to feel guilty for enjoying someone else's company and…whatever else might come with it."

I stare at my plate, my appetite gone. Of course I have no rational reason to feel guilty. But that doesn't mean anything.

We finish our lunch in silence, dropping the whole subject by unspoken agreement. The rest of the afternoon is pleasant enough, and we separate at my house after hauling what feels like bags and bags of new clothes inside.

"I didn't mean to upset you at lunch." Jordan tells me as he gives me a long, hard hug. "You just do what feels right to you. Don't worry about what anyone else might think."

I let out a short laugh as I hug him in response. "What if nothing feels right?"

Jordan pulls back with a scandalized expression. "That's simply not possible. Shame on you for thinking so." He taps me on the nose. "I don't think you believe that yourself."

I roll my eyes at him as we separate with assurances that Wednesday night spaghetti night is still on, and I close the door behind him, surveying my purchases.

Finally I haul them upstairs and get them all organized, alternately amazed and appalled at the sheer quantity. My checking account is certainly appalled at the money I spent today.

My phone goes off in my pocket, and I'm only slightly surprised to see Sean's number on the Caller ID.

"Hello." I answer with a calm I'm not sure I feel.

"Hey." He answers casually. "What are you up to?"

"Not much." I tell the story of my shopping adventures with Jordan, leaving out the lunchtime conversation, and he tells me how he got called into work when one of the other managers bailed for the afternoon.

"So you must be tired." I venture. "I mean, between running and working."

"Mmm…not really." A brief pause. "I'd still be up for company if you're interested."

I laugh a little. "Surely you've got more interesting things to do on a Saturday night than that."

"I don't feel like going out." Sean's tone turns a little defensive. "I promise to keep my hands to myself if that's what you want."

I'm not sure that's what I want, and the thought catches me by surprise. "You don't have to promise anything. I'll be over in a while."

"Excellent." I can almost hear him smile through the phone. "See you in a few."

I disconnect and shove my phone into my pocket, changing into a t-shirt and one of Kenneth's hooded sweatshirts, lacing up a pair of running shoes before climbing into my car for the drive over. All attempts to relax are failing. Even reminding myself that there are no expectations, that Sean is merely being friendly, has no effect.

Because if I really want to be honest with myself, I don't want Sean to keep his hands to himself. I don't want to keep mine to myself, either.

I pull up in front of his apartment house, climbing out of the car and hitting the doorbell for his apartment. It doesn't take long for Sean to come trotting down the stairs to let me in.

I'm nervous as we enter the apartment, but Sean almost immediately puts me at ease, calling in an order for Chinese food and finding a movie to watch.

Between the food, the movies, and the conversation, it turns out to be a pleasant evening, and I find myself enjoying Sean's company immensely. A couple of his friends drop in at some point, and Sean feigns embarrassment at some of their wilder stories.

The evening winds down somewhere around two in the morning when I awaken to a quiet apartment and Sean snoring on my shoulder. I can't resist running a hand through his hair before nudging him awake.

He raises his head, blinking as he looks up at me, obviously confused. It's adorable beyond all reason, and any thought of 'just friends' is washed away as I lean down to give him a quick kiss.

"We fell asleep." I explain quietly.

He nods, rising to a full sitting position and stretching his long arms over his head before looking over at me. "So, staying?"

"I shouldn't." I shake my head. One night was plenty. No need to further muddle things.

He gives me a little lopsided grin. "I didn't ask if you _should_ stay. I asked if you _wanted_ to stay."

Of course I want to stay. Logically, it's foolish. I can't get too attached to this man. He's far too young for me, I'm still reeling from Kenneth's death…it's just too much.

While I'm deep in debate with myself, Sean's lips touch mine, and my resistance crumbles. For the second time in as many nights, I find myself saying, "I'll stay."

And for the second time, Sean makes it worth every minute.

# # #

**Back to you. dear readers. Please read and review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Still working our way through the non-House stuff. Stick with it. It'll be worth it. :)**

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_December 2009, Ann Arbor, Michigan_

"Okay, okay, okay." Kevin's voice rises above the laughter of everyone gathered at the table for another spaghetti night. "We need to get started making some plans. Not only do we have Christmas coming but…" His eyes slide over to me with a little smirk. "…a certain someone is reaching the big five-oh."

My heart sinks almost immediately. Kenneth and I had talked about going away as a joint Christmas and fiftieth birthday celebration, but it had never come to pass. I shake my head as I stare down at my plate. "It's not that big a deal."

Kevin looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "It's a major milestone! Of course it's a big deal!"

Michael takes Kevin's hand and whispers something in his ear, and Kevin's expression immediately sobers. An uncomfortable silence falls over the table, save for the clink of silverware.

I let out a short sigh and rise from the table. "I'll just go open up another bottle of wine."

I can feel the eyes of everyone at the table on me as I stride into the kitchen and find the corkscrew, easily twisting it into the bottle and yanking out the cork. My mind can't help wandering to a million occasions just like this one, filled with teasing, laughter, and companionship. It's just not the same without Kenneth here. Sean has started to fill a hole in my life to a certain extent, but there's still something missing. This time of year, I feel it more acutely than ever.

Arms wrap around me and squeeze, and I feel the sensation of a raspberry on my neck. It's Kevin, of course. No one else in this group would dare be so intimate with me.

I glance over my shoulder into Kevin's puppy dog eyes. His chin rests on my shoulder, and any irritation I might have felt toward him dissipates. God knows I can never stay angry at the man for long.

"I'm sorry, babycakes." He tells me softly. "Wasn't thinking, as usual."

"I know, I know." I cover his hands with my own. "It's just that…we had started making plans. He was so excited, and…"

I close my eyes, not trusting my voice, swallowing the hard lump that's formed in my throat. Kevin sighs roughly behind me.

"Most wonderful time of the year my ass." He blurts out, and I can't help bursting out into laughter, turning in his arms and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You know I love you, right?" I tell him, laughter and tears blending together.

"Like a brother, honey." Kevin answers. "A hot and sexy younger brother."

"Oh, stop." I pull back and smack his arm.

"It's true." He replies, pulling away with a teasing expression. "Whatever you're doing, it's working."

"Get out of here." I wave him away with a laugh, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I'll be along in a minute."

Kevin gives me one last squeeze before returning to the dining room, and soon he has the room going again with his charm and humor. Just as I enter the dining room with the open bottle of wine, my doorbell starts ringing.

"Now who could that possibly be?" Jordan opens his mouth first, an amused expression crossing his features.

"No one we know." Kevin speculates. "Anyone we know would have just walked in."

I shake my head and leave them all murmuring behind me as I answer the door. Sean is standing there, flakes of snow dusting his fleece-covered shoulders and sitting in his hair. He flashes me a quick smile. "Hi."

"Hello." A warmth spreads through me as I step aside to let him in. "Did you have any trouble finding the house?"

"Oh, no." He answers, entering and stomping his feet on the mat. "I just got held up at work. Closing was crazy tonight."

"I can imagine." I take his jacket and hang it in the closet, holding back from inhaling its scent as I do so. "Ready to meet the tribe?"

"I suppose." He smiles warmly, but I can see the nervous expression behind it.

We enter the dining room, and conversation fades. I take a deep breath. "Everyone, this is my friend Sean. Sean, this is…" I start pointing around the table. "…Kevin, Michael, Sherrie, Dave, Neil, Stuart, Eric, and Jordan."

"And yes, you will be quizzed on it later." Dave jokes.

"Don't listen to him." Sherrie assures Sean, smacking her husband in the arm. "It's so nice to meet you."

The others greet Sean with the same ease and warmth, but I can't help notice that Kevin has withdrawn a bit. I shake off my discomfort and gesture toward the kitchen. "Everything's already out. Go ahead and dish up."

Sean nods and ambles into the kitchen as I ease back into my chair. Jordan eyes me with an amused expression. "So _that's _the infamous 'friend'. He's lovely."

Almost everyone else at the table murmurs in agreement except for Kevin, who refuses to look up from his plate. Michael murmurs something in his ear, but Kevin simply shakes his head and continues eating.

Sean soon returns with a full plate, and Jordan offers him the wine. He nods in acceptance, and Jordan pours him a glass as we get back to our meal.

"So, how did you two meet?" Sherrie asks.

Sean swallows the bite in his mouth and answers before I can open my mouth. "Julian bought shoes from me." At Sherrie's quizzical expression he explains further. "I manage the Running Fit store downtown. As I was ringing Julian up, I invited him out for some of the group runs. We got to talking, and it turned out we have a lot more in common than running." He looks over at me with a warm smile, the one that always manages to melt me. "Been hanging out with him ever since."

I feel my face heat up, and the soft laughter starts around the table. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Julian." Sherrie tells me.

"Indeed." Eric adds, directing his next comment at Sean. "It's so nice to see Julian getting out there."

It's Sean's turn to blush this time. "Oh…it's not like that. We're just friends. Really."

"Right." Jordan's voice rises above the laughter. "That's not what I've heard."

I know Jordan is merely teasing. I've told him nothing outright about the true nature of my friendship with Sean. However, he's always been able to read me, and though I've said nothing, he has some idea of what's going on.

A chair scrapes next to me, and Kevin is suddenly out of his seat and gone, storming out of the room. Jordan arches an eyebrow. "What's gotten into him?"

"Let him go." Michael tells him, shaking his head at me as I start to rise from my chair. "You know how he gets."

I do know, but I wrack my brain for what might have set Kevin off this time. After a few minutes, I can't stand it anymore. I ignore the warnings my friends call out to me as I almost instinctually throw open the front door and go outside.

It's chilly, with large snowflakes pouring down from the sky, visible in the streetlights, and I soon find Kevin pacing up and down the sidewalk, his arms wrapped around him, his breath visible even from my vantage point on the porch. I sigh heavily and pull both of our coats from the closet and trot out to meet him.

"You nitwit." I chide him as I slip his coat over his shoulders before putting on my own. "It's freezing out here."

He meets my eyes with an expression I've never seen on his face, an odd mixture of hurt and anger. As he slides his arms into his coat, he snorts almost in disgust.

"What?" I'm puzzled by Kevin's uncharacteristic behavior.

"I can't believe you don't see it." He snaps, continuing his pacing.

I throw up my hands. "See _what_?"

Kevin goes for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, opening it and finding whatever it is he is looking for. "Does this look familiar?"

I take his wallet and study the picture. A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the air temperature.

It's a picture of Kenneth and me, taken at my med school graduation. I can't believe Kevin has hung on to it all these years. Even more unbelievable is the image of Kenneth, standing tall and proud next to me, almost half a head taller, his messy light brown hair falling in his eyes as a wide smile splits his face.

The resemblance between him and Sean is stronger than I realized, and I can't seem to stop shaking. I'm barely aware of Kevin's arms around me, his hand gently removing the wallet from my hands.

"You can't replace him." He speaks so quietly that I can barely hear him. "Believe me, babycakes, I've tried."

The last part gets my attention. "What do you mean?"

Kevin laughs harshly as he draws away from me and slides his wallet back in his pocket. "I was in love with the man before I knew you existed." He shrugs in an almost defeated motion. "But I was destined to be his silly, flighty friend while he fell in love with the brilliant young doctor."

He looks up at me while my mind scrambles to process what he's telling me. "Do you know how hard it was to share an office with him, listening to him talk about you, counseling him through the fights you two used to have, all the while hoping he'd just come to his fucking senses and see _me_? Do you?" He takes a deep breath before continuing. "And do you know how fucking hard it was to walk into that office and see his desk empty at the beginning of the school year?"

I can see Kevin is on the edge of falling apart, and I feel equal parts sympathy and resentment coursing through me. "You don't have to tell me. I've been coming home to an empty house for _months_. Sleeping in an empty bed for _months_." I cross the short distance between us until we're nearly nose to nose. "You didn't have to sit by and watch the man you love fade away, bit by bit." I can feel myself winding up, my anger and hurt growing as the memories push forward, memories I thought for sure were finally starting to fade.

Kevin shoves me away with a huff. "Yes, yes, fucking Saint Julian. Give me a break." His breath comes out in little puffs as he resumes his pacing. "We all watched it happen, okay? You really think you were alone in that?"

I have to concede that point. Near the end, everyone in the group took shifts to watch over Kenneth. I run a hand over my head and let out a huff. "Yes, you're right. I know. But why bring all of this up now?"

Kevin seems to have calmed down, the flash fire of his temper burning itself out and leaving him looking abjectly miserable. He's shaking, looking bewildered, almost as if he's not quite sure what brought this emotional tide on.

It is then, and only then, that it dawns on me just how much Kevin is suffering. I may have lost a man I loved deeply, but I was also secure in the knowledge that he loved me just as deeply back. Kevin never had that, and the thought that he's carried this around with him for so long breaks my heart.

I slowly approach him and gently wrap my arms around him. He stiffens in my hold at first, muttering angrily before he finally relaxes, turning to bury his face in my shoulder.

"Bitch." The single word comes out in a choked gasp as his arms wrap around my waist.

I can't help it. I start laughing. "You don't mean that."

"Sometimes I do." Kevin huffs irritably in my grasp. "But not right now. Not really." He takes in a ragged breath. "I miss him so much."

"I do, too." I tell him softly.

Kevin sighs and squeezes me. "I just can't believe you took my advice. You never take my advice."

"That's because your advice is usually awful." I laugh and give him an affectionate squeeze.

He pulls away and rolls his eyes. "Usually?"

"Okay, almost always." I can't help teasing him further, and this time he rewards me with a weak smile before nodding toward the house.

"I think we've got an audience."

I turn to see several bodies crowded in the open doorway, and I can hear the murmuring from where Kevin and I stand in the yard. While I can understand the concern, I can't help feel a bit of irritation.

"Close the door!" I call out. "I don't pay to heat the outside!"

There's a bit of muttering and grumbling before everyone goes back inside and the door closes. Kevin and I separate and give each other an appraising look.

"So…" I start.

"Right." Kevin straightens himself up, obviously attempting to pull himself together. "We should go back inside. It's freezing."

I nod, and we head back inside, neither one of us speaking as I take his coat and hang both of them in the closet. By the time we return to the dining room, it's as if the entire outburst never happened.

We finish dinner and start cleaning up as a few people leave, and soon Kevin is at the sink, scrubbing away at the dishes with a fury I've rarely witnessed. Sean cautiously approaches him, sidling up next to him to rinse.

They seem to reach an uneasy truce, and as I wipe down the stove and the center island, I can hear snatches of conversation. Nothing significant, small talk, really, but I'm grateful that they're getting along.

They finish the dishes, and Sean starts toward the living room, but Kevin catches him before he gets too far, pulling him into a quick hug before releasing him. I give them both a questioning look, but Kevin simply shrugs while Sean gives me a little smile as he passes through.

Kevin takes the foil off the selection of brownies, blondies, and cookies he has brought tonight and starts to take it into the living room. I could question him, but I know I won't get a true answer out of him.

I start a pot of coffee and lean against the door frame, listening to the conversation going on in the living room. A sadness washes over me as memories of nights just like this run through my head, and I swear I can almost hear Kenneth's deep laugh again.

The beep of the coffeemaker snaps me out of my reverie, and I retreat to the kitchen to gather mugs for all I know will want coffee.

"Need a hand?" Michael's voice makes me jump slightly.

"Sure."

Michael handles the mugs while I bring the carafe, setting them all on the coffee table. Jordan immediately jumps up in search of cream and sugar, and before long we all settle in for coffee and further conversation.

"Now then, about your birthday…" Kevin picks up where he left off earlier. "I know you said you don't want to make a fuss, but it just seems silly to let it blow by without any recognition at all."

I sigh, already knowing I'm going to make some sort of concession. There's very little point in arguing with the man. "When are you planning your pre-Christmas dinner?"

Kevin looks vaguely scandalized. "Oh, no you don't. You don't think you're going to sneak your birthday in during _my _pre-Christmas dinner, do you?"

"I was hoping." I mutter as I take a sip of my coffee.

"Not happening, honey." Kevin tells me firmly, taking another blondie off the tray. "I do, however, give you an 'E' for effort."

I shoot him a glare as the others laugh, even Sean, who smoothes a hand across my shoulders. Kevin tenses a little, but says nothing.

Michael places a hand on Kevin's knee and caresses him lightly before speaking. "Just give it some thought and let us know. It's not as dire an emergency as Kevin makes it sound."

I nod, and conversation soon turns to the pre-Christmas gathering coming up in a couple of weeks' time. It's a potluck, as always, and there's an in-depth discussion of the dishes we're bringing.

Sean simply shakes his head. "I'd rather not commit. I don't even know if I'll be able to make it."

Eric nods in understanding. "Retail's a bitch this time of year. I know I'll be running late myself."

Michael waves a hand dismissively. "Just show up whenever you can. The doors will be open all night."

Sean still looks doubtful, casting a look in Kevin's direction. Though it obviously hurts him a little to say it, he nods in agreement. "You heard Michael. Make it when you can. Hell, Eric's come stumbling in at midnight before. It's no problem."

"Thank you." Sean nods with a serious expression on his face, and Kevin looks vaguely uncomfortable as he murmurs a reply.

Before long the group starts breaking up, and hugs are exchanged all around. Kevin gives me a somewhat shaky smile as he hugs me hard.

"Forgive an old drama queen?" He murmurs as he rubs me between the shoulder blades.

"Nothing to forgive." I respond, already feeling the emotion swell up again.

Kevin pulls away with a sigh and turns to Sean. "Got off to a rough start, didn't we?"

Sean chuckles, glancing at the floor. "You could say that."

"I'm sorry." Kevin tells him softly, taking Sean's hand in both of his. "Do show up for pre-Christmas. And make sure this fool comes with. Julian has a tendency to shut himself away if we let him."

"I will." Sean assures him with a smile I swear could melt icebergs. It certainly seems to have had some effect on Kevin.

Soon we're alone, and Sean seems suddenly unsure of himself, hands shoved into the pockets of his work khakis. Part of me desperately wants to invite him to stay, but I still have lingering doubts about having anyone in what I still consider mine and Kenneth's bed.

"So…I should probably go." Sean finally ventures. "Got an early morning and a long day ahead of me tomorrow."

"Sure, sure." I answer a little quicker than I want to, gathering coffee mugs and taking them to the kitchen.

Sean isn't far behind me, as I soon discover when I turn back and nearly run into him. "Sorry." I mumble as I take the carafe and the tray from him.

He leans in for a quick kiss before I can turn away, the simple move sending sparks through me. I tamp down the feeling and make my way to the sink to clean up the few dishes that remain.

Sean quietly slips in beside me to rinse, and I take the opportunity to study him closer. Kevin is right, the resemblance to Kenneth is unmistakable. I find it odd that I haven't noticed it before, but it's all there. The easy laugh, the warm smile, even the hands that wander over me at every opportunity.

I'm suddenly angry. Here I had thought I had truly started to move forward with Sean, when in fact I've gone absolutely nowhere.

"Dammit." I snap in frustration and nearly throw a mug into the rinse sink.

Sean regards my sudden outburst with a raised eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

I look up at him, unable to voice my frustration. Finally I blurt out, "You're not his replacement."

Sean looks baffled for a moment before realization seems to dawn on him. He doesn't say a word, simply sliding an arm across my shoulders and drawing my body to his, his cheek pressed to mine.

I don't know how long we stand there, neither one of us speaking, while the emotional storm finally passes. Slowly I wrap my arms around his waist and place my chin on his shoulder with a sigh. "God, I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not." Sean tells me with an affectionate laugh.

"I _am_." I insist. "Every time I think I've made some sort of brilliant breakthrough, something else comes up to remind me that I haven't broken through anything at all. I'm right where I was months ago."

Sean pulls back slightly with such a look of kindness and affection that it breaks my heart a little. "It's a tough time of year for anyone. You've just been hit with a double dose, that's all."

"Right." I respond softly, not entirely trusting my voice as I pull away from him, taking his hands in mine.

Sean's expression changes slightly to one of concern as his thumbs play over the backs of my hands. "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

"I don't know." The words come out in a rush. "Maybe."

Sean squeezes my hands. "You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be."

I swallow hard at that. Of course I want him here. At times I feel as if I can't get enough of anything he offers. But to have Sean here, in the house that Kenneth and I built, is a wall I simply cannot get over.

Finally I shake my head. "No, really. I'll be fine."

Sean huffs and releases my hands. "Okay. I'll see you for the group run tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be there."

He nods firmly and turns to leave the kitchen. For some unknown reason I feel the need to follow him. I watch him as he pulls his fleece jacket out of the closet and puts it on, zipping it up and finding his gloves, his keys, his phone.

"I think that's everything." He tells me with just a hint of a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." On impulse, I close the short distance between us and plant a brief kiss on his lips.

I should have known what would come of that. Sean's hand slides along my jaw as the kiss deepens, his tongue dipping into my mouth and finding mine.

My resistance is slipping by the minute as I unzip his jacket and tug at his shirt, finding the warm, smooth skin underneath. I hear him groan a little as he starts to do the same, pulling my shirt out of my pants and starting to unbutton it from the bottom.

"Let me in." He growls as his hands spread over my exposed chest and stomach. "Just fucking let me in."

I can't say no. I can't recall a time when I've been able to say no to him. I half guide and half drag him toward the living room, where we both land hard on the couch with him straddling me.

He ditches the fleece jacket before proceeding to strip off his polo shirt, and I smooth my hands over his chest and stomach, listening to him hum in appreciation. I slide my hands to his back and pull him toward me, feeling him already hard against me, while I'm well on my way.

"Right here?" He asks me.

Better here than in my bed. I'm still not ready to have anyone there. "Why not?" I respond in what I hope sounds like a teasing tone.

Sean smiles and leans in for another quick kiss before sliding off my legs and onto his knees in front of me and starting to work at my pants. Before I know it, he has them undone, and he's sliding them off my body, his hand wrapping around my hardening flesh.

He soon replaces his hand with his mouth, nearly sending me over with the sensation of his lips and tongue working over me. A soft sigh escapes me as I run my hands through his hair.

"You like that?" Sean teases me as he pulls off me, still stroking me with his hand.

"_Yes_." I laugh a little, caressing his soft hair. "And you know I do."

He looks away, reaching into his pocket and producing a condom and some lube. I can't see how this is going to work. My body definitely doesn't bend that way anymore.

Sean rips open the condom and rolls it over me, following it with a healthy slathering of lube. My heart starts pounding a little at the idea of what might follow.

In a couple of swift moves, Sean drops his pants and straddles me again, guiding me deep inside him almost before I'm aware of what's happening. I let out a sharp gasp at the sensation.

"_Fuck._" I clutch at his hips as he starts to slide up and down.

Sean leans forward slightly and kisses me hard. "I love making you swear. _So_ hot."

I respond by pushing deeper into him, and I'm rewarded with a hiss and moan of pleasure from Sean. "You can do better than that." He tells me in a rush.

I shift slightly, building a steady rhythm that soon has both of us at a loss for words.

"That's it, that's it." Sean murmurs softly, leaning forward, his forehead touching mine as his climax builds. He goes first with a rough moan, bracing himself against the back of the couch and pressing kisses into my cheek.

It isn't long before I follow, wrapping my arms around Sean as the shock waves go through me, over and over again. I finally sigh and relax, letting my hands rest at the small of Sean's back.

We're quiet for a few minutes before Sean speaks. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting all _that_ when you invited me for spaghetti night."

I laugh and squeeze his rear. "But I see you came prepared."

"Of course." Sean leans back and gives me a wide smile. "Because, well, you never know."

"Right." I run my hands up and down his back, not quite ready for him to get off me just yet. I must admit, in our brief time together, I've come to enjoy the physical closeness.

Sean finally sighs and starts to climb off me, and we start to clean up as best we can given the circumstances. I'm tempted to ask him to stay, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready to let him that far into my life.

I realize I'm being silly. We've slept together at his apartment countless times. This should be no different. What am I so afraid of, really?

Of course it's obvious. I don't want to erase Kenneth's memory, it's as simple as that.

"A penny for your thoughts." Sean's voice breaks me out of my reverie.

I look up at him, at that slightly amused expression, that messy hair that has gotten even messier, and I melt. "Stay."

He looks down at me and holds out his hand, pulling me off the couch and wrapping me in his arms. "All you ever had to do was ask."

My heart flips a little. I can't help it. I don't want to fall for this young man, I truly don't. It's so soon.

And yet, as we each take our respective showers and curl up in my bed, something about this feels right. I know it shouldn't, but it does. It feels good to share my bed again.

I hear Sean's breathing even out and settle into steady snoring. It's only then that I dare pull out the picture of Kenneth, lightly rubbing it with my thumb.

"He's here, in our bed." I tell the picture. "I didn't think it would happen so soon." I take a deep breath. "But it's just been so lonely without you. I miss you, honey."

"Who're you talking to?" Sean murmurs as he shifts next to me.

"No one." I quickly slide the picture under my alarm clock and turn over to place an arm over Sean.

He covers my hand with his and quickly falls back asleep, and I let out a long sigh. Someday, I'm sure, I'll get used to sleeping with someone besides Kenneth. Apparently I'm just not quite there yet.

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**Back to you, dear readers. Read and review.**


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